Captain Winchester: The Winter Soldier
by Swiss Blue
Summary: Dean Winchester is Captain America. When he finds out SHIELD has been compromised, it launches a mission to stop a mass murder and discover the truth. The assassin, the Winter Soldier, has a shocking identity: his brother. Once Dean finds his brother, an arduous recovery process begins. Hurt, comfort, cuddles, trauma, torture, and action.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters contained herein. They belong to the owners of _Supernatural_ and _Marvel._ The plot and many of the lines are property of _Marvel._ This disclaimer applies to the whole story. I do not own the image; I found it on Pinterest.

 **Rating:** T for violence and trauma.

 **Author's Notes:** Not so much a crossover as it is two worlds mixed together. This story assumes you at least know the basics of both worlds. The looks reference for the supernatural characters is late season 6; that's where they are pulled from.

 **Notes about the Characters:** The characters from _Supernatural_ are, for the most part, put into the world of _Captain America._ They keep most of their personality, character traits, and looks; for example, Dean acts and looks like Dean, not Steve Rogers, except for a few exceptions. Some main characters are kept the same for _CA_ ; Fury is the same and so is Sam Wilson, though for obvious reasons he can't be named Sam, so I changed his name to Rob (Robert) in honour of Bobby, though he is not Bobby. Joanna (Jo) is the Black Widow, but her name is Zhanna, Russian for Joanna. If things get too confusing, ask for a cast list and I'll put one up.

 **Captain Winchester: The Winter Soldier**

In the dawn of a spring day in 2014, a man jogged around the lake in Washington, D.C. He was black, average height, with very short black hair. A short beard that looped around the bottom of his chin and then up the sides to meet a short mustache accented his handsome face. In the quiet of the morning he heard another runner.

'On your left,' the man said as he shot past him at a full run.

Later, when the sun was up a little more, he heard it again.

'On your left.'

'On my left. Mm-hm, got it.' The man said, impressed and slightly annoyed.

Later still, when the sun had fully come over the horizon, and he was part way through a lap around the pool in front of the Washington Monument, he heard the smacking of shoes on the pavement. He knew it was the other man.

'Don't you say it! Don't you dare say it!' He threatened as he put on more speed.

'On your left,' the fast man said.

'Come on!' But the man was already far ahead.

The first runner soon collapsed at the base of a tree, heaving for breath. People were out and about now, starting their work day.

'Need a medic?' the fast runner asked as he walked up. He was tall, in his early thirties, with dark blond hair in an Ivy League haircut. He had a smattering of light freckles across his cheeks, and a grey exercise shirt showed-off his muscular physique. He was, all in all, a beauty of a man.

The first man laughed. 'I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran about 13 miles in 30 minutes.'

'Must be slackin' today,' the man replied with a grin.

'Oh really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.' The man looked away for a brief second. 'Did you take it?' he asked when he looked back, 'I assume you just took it.'

'What unit you in?' the blond asked, noticing the military logo emblazoned on the man's sweatshirt.

'58th Pararescue,' the man answered, 'But now I'm working down at the VA.' He put up a hand for help up. 'Rob Wilson,' he said.

'Dean Winchester,' the blond said as he helped him up.

'Yeah, I put that together,' Rob replied. He straightened up. 'Must have freaked you out, coming back after the whole defrosting thing.'

'It takes some getting used to,' Dean admitted. 'Good to meet you, Rob.'

'It's your bed, isn't it?' Rob asked as Dean turned away.

'What's that?' Dean asked, turning around.

'It's your bed. When I was over there I slept on the ground, used rocks for pillows. Now I'm home, sleeping in my bed, and it's like…'

'Sleeping on a marshmallow,' Dean finished, 'I feel like I'll drown in the mattress. How long?' he inquired after a short pause.

'Two tours,' Rob answered. 'You must miss the good old days.'

'It's not so bad,' Dean said. 'The food's better; I love the hamburgers here. The rock music from the 60's and 70's is awesome, and the internet: so helpful. I've been on that a lot, trying to catch up.'

Rob smiled and got that look on his face that Dean knows means he will recommend something to catch up on. Sure enough, he does.

'Marvin Gaye, 1972, _Troubleman_ soundtrack. Everything you missed into one album.'

Dean whipped out a little notebook. 'I'll add it to the list.' After jotting it down, his cell phone beeped; it was a message from SHIELD. 'Gotta go, Rob. Duty calls. Thanks for the run,' he offered his hand, 'it that's what you want to call running.'

Rob raised his eyebrows as he took the hand. 'Oh that's how it is?' he said, enjoying the challenge.

'That's how it is,' Dean confirmed with a smirk. Rob grinned back, both men happy to have made a new friend.

'Any time you want to stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, you let me know,' Rob said; it was an invitation to come to the VA for help adjusting, and Dean knew it.

'I'll keep it in mind,' he said. A fancy black car pulled up to the curb behind him. The window rolled down to reveal a hot woman with blonde hair in a black leather jacket. She was short, athletic, in her early thirties, and had an oval face. It was Zhanna Romanov, the Black Widow, an agent of SHIELD and former Russian spy.

'Hey fellas,' she said in a voice that was almost seductive, 'do either of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick-up a fossil.'

'Hilarious,' said Dean as he walked to the car, knowing the jab was for him.

Rob crouched down to get a better look at the beautiful girl within. 'How you doin?' he said with a smile.

'Hey,' she responded.

Dean slid in and looked back at Rob. 'Can't run everywhere,' he quipped.

'No you can't,' replied Rob, his tone letting Dean know that he knew exactly how beautiful his driver was. Dean threw him a last grin before the car pulled out into traffic and zoomed away.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Later that night, a military plane flew low over the Indian Ocean, carrying Dean, Zhanna, and SHIELD's STRIKE team, all in uniform, to their mission. Dean wore a dark blue fighting suit with a silver star on the front, Zhanna a black leather "cat woman" jumpsuit, and the rest wore black tactical gear. Cole Trenton, the leader of the STRIKE team, briefed the team on the mission.

'Target is a mobile satellite launch platform, the _Lemurian Star._ They were sending up their last payload when the pirates took them, 93 minutes ago,' he said quickly as he showed a layout of the ship below on the screen.

'How many pirates?' asked Dean.

'Twenty-five,' he answered. 'Top mercenaries, led by this guy: George Batroc. Man has a reputation for maximum casualties.'

'All right then,' said Dean, all business, 'I'll sweep the deck and take Batroc. Zhanna, kill the engines and wait for instructions. Trenton, sweep aft, get the hostages, get them to the life pods, get them out.'

'STRIKE, you heard Cap. Gear up!' Trenton ordered his men.

Dean walked towards the opening of the plane where Zhanna was checking the mics.

'Secure channel 7?' he asked to test his mic.

'Channel 7 secure,' she responded. 'Did you do anything fun Saturday night?' she asks teasingly.

'Well all the guys on my baseball team are dead, so, no,' Dean said, trying to brush off the feeling of sadness.

'Coming up on the drop zone, Cap,' the voice on the radio announced as the back of the plane opened.

'You know,' Zhanna offered, 'if you asked out Hayley, from Statistics, she'd probably say yes.'

'That's why I don't ask,' Dean replied as he secured his shield to his back.

'Too shy or too scared?' Zhanna taunted, knowing full well Dean was neither.

'Too busy!' he called over the roar of the plane, then jumped out into the night.

An agent went wide-eyed as he stared at the spot Dean had just vacated. 'Was he wearing a parachute?' he asked Trenton.

'No,' said Trenton as he tightened his gloves and smirked in admiration. 'No, he was not.'

Ever since the super soldier serum injection, Dean had been able to do super-human feats. Jumping out of an airplane that was several hundred feet in the air and into the water below was nothing; in fact, it was thrilling. And Dean loved the thrill. He always had. The rush of excitement and sharpening of focus was exhilarating. He climbed up the cable that anchored the ship and as soon as his feet touched the deck, started using his shield and fighting skills to clear the area for the rest of the team. He had everyone down in less than two minutes, except for one guy who popped back up and pointed a gun at his head. He would have been easy to take care of, but a tranquilizer dart suddenly imbedded in his neck. Dean looked up to see Trenton land, gun in hand.

'Thanks,' Dean said.

'Yeah, you looked pretty helpless without me,' Trenton said with a grin as he clipped off his parachute. The other members of the team landed and started moving.

'What about the nurse who lives down the hall from you? She seems nice,' Zhanna said, catching up to the Captain.

'Secure the engine room, then find me a date,' ordered Dean.

'Fine,' Zhanna replied with attitude.

The hostages were rescued quickly and efficiently, and Trenton radioed in to Dean that he was taking them to the pods, but Zhanna was not there. Dean radioed in to Zhanna, but before he could finish was sideswiped by Batroc and found himself in a fight. It was almost an even match, and ended with the pair crashing through a door and into the control room.

'Stylish entrance,' came Zhanna's voice.

Dean popped up, spotted the Black Widow leaning over one of the computers, and gave a glance at his opponent who was out for the moment. 'What are you doing?' he asked severely. 'You're supposed to be helping Trenton with the hostages.'

'I'm sure he has everything under control,' she said flippantly.

'You had orders. What are you doing?' he demanded.

'Backing up the hard drive. It's a good habit,' she answered.

Dean studied the screen. 'You're saving SHIELD intel. Get out there and help Trenton. We have a mission.'

'Actually, rescuing hostages is _your_ mission.' The computer beeped and she pulled out a large flash drive and turned to Dean with a smile. 'And you've done it marvelously.'

Dean grabbed her arm when she made to walk by. 'You just jeopardized this whole operation,' he said, anger and frustration evident in his tone.

'I think that's a little dramatic,' Zhanna said defensively. Just then, Batroc stood up and chucked a grenade at them as he ran from the room. Dean hit it away with his shield, grabbed Zhanna around the waist, and jumped into a small office to the side of the room, shattering the glass that surrounded it. They barely made it through before the grenade exploded, showering everything with plaster and bits of metal.

Zhanna panted. 'Ok,' she admitted, 'that one is on me.'

'Darn right it is,' Dean said testily, and he jumped up to go after Batroc. At least the rest of the mission went well.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

SHIELD headquarters was located in Washington D.C. at a building called the Triskelion, aptly named for its three main buildings that stood as high as skyscrapers, curving towards an open centre, and built with concrete and metal and large glass windows. It was accessed by a large bridge, as it sat partly in the Potomac River. It was an expensive, high-end place with the latest and most sophisticated technology, including voice-activated computers and elevators. The imposing office of the imposing Director Nick Fury was located here. The director was tall, black, bald, broad, in his sixties, and had a black eye patch over one eye; he always wore black, usually with a long black leather coat. His office was unnecessarily large, with large floor-length windows in one corner behind his desk. A long conference table and chairs were in the opposite corner, and black leather seats were in front of the wall with an enormous computer screen on it. Dean was still furious when he stormed in the next morning.

'What were you thinking, Fury?!' Dean demanded, just getting started. 'Giving Agent Romanov a side mission and not telling me about it?!'

'Ah, Captain America. Come on in,' Fury said almost lazily, clearly unfazed by Dean's anger. He stood slowly and leaned over his desk with his fingertips resting on the top.

'Answer me!' commanded Dean.

'I didn't want you doing something you were uncomfortable with. Agent Romanov is comfortable with everything,' he replied, trying to pacify the captain. It didn't work.

'Those hostages could have died,' Dean said fiercely.

'I sent the best soldier in history to make sure that didn't happen,' Fury returned with an edge to his voice that told Dean that he was not happy with having his methods questioned.

'I can't lead a mission when my team has missions of their own that I don't know about!'

'It's called compartmentalization,' retorted Fury. 'Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.'

'If you don't trust us to complete missions then you shouldn't send us on them. If I had known about Agent Romanov's mission I could have incorporated that into the plan and avoided a bomb to the face and worried agents!' Dean breathed steadily in through his nose to calm himself down. Fury regarded him with an annoyed expression before straightening up, his previous power stance doing nothing to intimidate the captain.

'You're wrong about me,' he said. 'I do share. I'm nice like that.' Dean scoffed. 'Come on,' Fury continued, 'I have something to show you.'

Dean followed Fury to the elevator where he took him to a level called "Insight Bay," overriding the computer's warning that Captain Winchester did not have clearance for Project Insight. The elevator was on the corner of the building where the two outside walls were all glass, affording a view of the city. As the elevator dropped below the level of the earth, a huge room housing three helicarriers was revealed; giant ship-like planes holding other planes and guns with the power of tanks. Dean knew his expression held surprise.

'This is Project Insight: three next-generation helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites. Once they're in the air, they never need to come down,' explained Fury as he and Dean walked amidst the bustle of the workers. 'Continuous sub-orbital flight, courtesy of our new repulser engines. These long-range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps out of his spider hole.' They stopped at a bridge. 'We're going to neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.'

'I thought the punishment came after the crime,' Dean said pointedly.

'We can't afford to wait that long,' Fury replied.

'Who's "we"?'

'After the battle of New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we are way ahead of the game.'

'By holding a gun to everyone on earth and calling it protection.'

Fury turned to him. 'I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some pretty nasty stuff.' He was referring to World War II and the Captain's involvement.

Dean looked him dead in the eye. 'Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep well. But we did it so that people could be free. This,' he pointed to a helicarrier, 'isn't freedom; this is fear. Obedience without liberty is slavery.'

'SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we'd like it to be,' Fury said defensively. 'And it's getting past time for you to get with that program, Cap.' He popped the word "Cap" a bit so that Dean would know it was meant to be rude.

'If you think the world needs to be controlled with a gun to everyone's head, then don't hold your breath.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next day at 10:00 a.m. found Dean in the Smithsonian Museum, visiting an exhibit for Captain America. As he walked around looking at the WWII planes, the old costumes of his fellow soldiers, and the little informational plaques, a voice recording played overhead telling of the sacrifice, honor, and bravery that filled the story of Captain America. Dean was mildly surprised that no-one noticed who he was; the hat he was wearing did not exactly disguise his features. He noticed one little kid, a boy with red hair, staring at him with mouth agape. Dean smiled at him and held a finger to his lips, and the boy nodded his promise of secrecy. Dean slid his hand back into the pocket of his brown leather jacket, and felt once again the sadness that settled deep within his heart: the sadness of outliving these men without the chance to say goodbye, of missing the world that he knew, of never living the life with the woman he had once loved. But his sadness was greatest of all when he thought about his brother.

There was a wall dedicated to Dean's little brother, telling shortly of his life in battle and his death. There was even a picture of him in uniform, just as Dean remembered him, with his dimples peeking through when he smiled, and his hair, though longer than normal for the 1940's, swept and gelled back tastefully and neatly. But, no matter how hard history may try, it did not capture how much that little brother had meant to Dean.

Sam. The little brother who had an insatiable curiosity, an inherent softness, and a kind heart. The little brother who followed Dean everywhere from the time he could walk. He had been Dean's friend, his confidant, and his supporter. Dean had loved that kid with all his heart, and even with a love that was somewhat fatherly.

When Dean was four, and Sam still a baby, their mother died in a fire at the school where she worked. Their father, John Winchester, found himself alone raising two boys without the much-needed second income. He got a second job and worked long hours, often only being at home and awake for a couple hours a day. Dean was left in charge of Sam, and was his sole playmate until he was four and could play with the other kids in the neighborhood. He helped raise his brother in the long absences of their father. John loved his boys and wished he could be home, but to support his children had little choice but to work.

Dean was a natural leader, so his little brother confidently followed him, and as it turned out, he was a natural annoyance as well. There were few things Dean liked better than to annoy Sam – or Sammy, as he called him – and his brother had a very difficult time trying to get Dean to "behave." However, Dean was the only one with the privilege of annoying Sam. Sam had a kind heart and a fierce sense of justice, which made him a target for bullies, and Dean protected him from them all. Everyone knew that no-one messed with Dean Winchester's little brother. Dean was the typical tough guy with a good heart, but the tough guy image changed with the car accident.

When Dean was 16 he was involved in a horrible three-car pile-up. Two people died, and Dean was lucky to get out with his life. But it cost him. He suffered torn muscles and ligaments and two comminuted fractures in his right leg, and when it healed it left him with a limp. A raging infection that grew in his broken leg lowered his immune system, causing him to catch a case of pneumonia so severe it damaged his lungs: he was winded after two flights of stairs, and carrying heavy things had him panting for breath. Without the ability to get much exercise, Dean's muscle mass dwindled. And through all the sickness and pain and healing, there was Sam. He never left Dean's side and encouraged him in his physical therapy. Sam was there to comfort him when he was depressed, cheer him when he was discouraged, and defend him from himself when he felt ashamed. Dean would never have made it through those years without his brother.

As the years went by both boys grew-up; Dean into a gorgeous man with lively green eyes and a smile that could charm the Pied Piper himself, and Sam into a beautiful boy with thick, chocolate-coloured hair and soulful eyes that could win him the world if he tried. Dean, in spite of his injuries, was popular with the ladies, but never had a relationship because girls didn't want to be with the skinny cripple long-term. Sam, on the other hand, blushed whenever a girl flirted with him and shied away from attention, which earned him many lectures from Dean on how to charm the fairer gender.

When America entered the war, both Sam and Dean wanted to serve. Sam enlisted and was made a sergeant in the 107th infantry, but Dean was denied – because of his conditions –every time he tried to enlist. Sam didn't want Dean to enlist because he knew that in battle Dean would be the first to die. He couldn't haul around the heavy gear and he couldn't run; he would be an easy target. They fought over that several times, until a doctor named Erskine gave Dean a unique chance: to be the test subject for a super-soldier experiment. The experiment turned him into the man he was today: tall; with super-human strength, speed, and healing; and, apparently, the ability to be preserved for almost 70 years in ice.

He entered the army and made a name for himself by rescuing the 107th infantry from a HYDRA base, where new, strange weapons were being made to aid in the HYDRA takeover of the world; he found his brother there too, strapped to a table, a victim of human experimentation; though besides looking awful, had apparently suffered no ill affects. With Sam and five other men he had rescued, Dean organized the team The Howling Commandoes to specifically take down the rest of the HYDRA bases. They were wildly successful, but their second-to-last mission – that took place on a train in the mountains – cost Dean his brother. Dean and Sam got separated from the other Commandoes and ran into a robot with a deadly gun that fired energy-like blasts. Dean had taken the brunt of the attack and while flying into a wall had dropped his shield. Sam picked it up and, to save his brother, stepped in front of him and fired his own gun at the robot. But he didn't know how to properly hold the shield in front of his body, and held it to the side; when the next blast hit the shield, he was knocked sideways through a gaping hole in the train, instead of straight back. Dean tried desperately to reach him, but the bar Sam was clinging to broke, and he fell to his death down into the snowy ravine.

Dean still felt the heartbreak even now. Back then, he had less than a week to mourn his brother before they took down the last base, and then Dean had crashed a plane into the icy landscape of the Arctic. When he woke-up in the 21st century, it didn't feel like he had missed 66 years; it felt like only a few days. The pain of loss for his brother was still fresh, but there was no funeral to attend; it had been held decades ago. Since the body was never recovered, there was no grave to visit, no closure. His old home, his clothes, his things, were all gone, and Dean was still fighting some museums to get his photographs back. He never got to properly say goodbye to his little brother, and now he didn't even have friends to reminisce with; they were all dead.

The final stop in the museum was a short video of one of the founders of SHIELD who personally knew Captain America. The lady in the video was Lisa Braedon, the first women Dean had fallen in love with, and had wanted to marry. But she had already been dead for over a decade now.

On his way out of the museum, Dean got a phone call. It was from a nurse telling him someone had died, and if he wanted to see the body one last time he should come now. Breathing in deeply, and running a hand down his face, Dean headed towards the nursing home.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Dean said all his men died, that wasn't quite true. _Now_ they had all died. There had been one left: Bobby "Old Coot" Singer. He had been the oldest and gruffest of the Howling Commandoes, hence his nickname, even though he was only 40 years-old at the time. He was one of the few in the military that had kept his beard; he wore his hat no matter what, and he called everybody 'idjit' – even those in higher rank when they were out of earshot. He had been in a nursing home for years now, with dementia so bad he sometimes couldn't remember his own name, much less old friends.

Dean had visited anyway, even though Bobby slept most of the time, and now even he was gone, though at least Dean would get to say goodbye.

He was ushered into Bobby's room by one of the nurses, and was met there by Bobby's hospital nurse, who was there because Bobby's last hours had been rough. Castiel – or Cas, as Dean called him – typically worked in trauma at the hospital and since Bobby had had a bad fall earlier that year, was over to help with his last hours. Castiel had short, dark, messy hair, blue eyes, and an expression that suggested extreme concentration. Today he was wearing dark blue scrub pants and a white scrub shirt with colourful little ties all over it.

'Hello, Dean,' he greeted in his deep, gravelly voice.

'Hey, Cas,' Dean all but sighed back. He walked slowly over to Bobby's bed, and gazed at the old man one last time. Bobby's eyes were closed. 'How were his last hours?' he inquired after a pause.

'Sadly, they were rough. Though his last few minutes were fairly calm,' Castiel answered.

Dean nodded jerkily. 'Sometimes that's all you can ask for,' he said. 'How old is he? -was he?'

'One hundred and nine,' answered Castiel.

'Wow,' said Dean. He didn't feel close to tears, but he did feel strong emotions for losing his last connection to his old life and his friend. 'The Old Coot outlived us all.'

'Except you,' Castiel reminded him.

 _Thanks a lot, Cas,_ Dean thought. 'Yeah,' he said sadly, 'except me.'

Castiel seemed to realize why Dean might not like that. He stepped closer. 'I am sorry for your loss,' he said.

'Thanks.' He turned a little and realized just how close Castiel was standing next to him. 'Cas, personal space,' he said.

Castiel backed up a little. 'Sorry,' he said awkwardly. Castiel had spent several years in Russia, where the concept of personal space was much smaller, and had yet to re-adapt. They stood there, staring at Bobby's wrinkly face, and just as Dean decided it was getting awkward, Castiel said: 'His last word was idjit.'

Dean huffed a laugh. 'Figures.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the other side of the city, Fury had the computer secure his office, then he plugged in the flash drive from Agent Romanov's mission and prepared to access the information from the _Lemurian Star._

'Open _Lemurian Star_ satellite launch file,' he ordered.

'Access denied,' stated the computer.

'Run decryption,' Fury said, feeling suspicious.

After a moment: 'Decryption failed,' stated the computer.

'Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.' Fury said as he walked closer to the screen projected on the wall.

'Override failed,' reported the computer. 'All files sealed.'

'On whose authority?' Fury asked in a tone mixed with annoyance and fear.

'Fury, Nicholas J.' responded the computer.

Fury stared and allowed himself to show a small sign of fear by sliding his hands into his pockets. Something was very wrong.

He went to see the secretary of SHIELD, Alexander Pierce. Pierce was at a World Security Council meeting on one of the top floors; the World Security Council oversaw SHIELD. The three other members – beamed in by hologram – were arguing about Fury's letting a SHIELD vessel be boarded by pirates. Pierce was unconcerned about one ship, caring instead for the fleet, but the WSC was 'falling into rancor' (according to Pierce) over the international piracy incident. When an aid came to tell Pierce about Fury's arrival, he excused himself from the council and went to meet him.

'I work 40 floors away and it takes a hijacking for you to visit?' he greeted good-naturedly.

'A nuclear war would do it too,' said Fury rather less cheerily as he shook his hand. 'You busy in there?' he nodded towards the council room; it could be seen through a wall of one-way glass.

'Nothing some earmarks can't fix,' Pierce replied. Earmarks were funds given to a government organization.

Fury nodded distractedly, his body language nervous. 'I'm here to ask a favour,' he said. 'I want you to call for a vote. Project Insight has to be delayed.'

Pierce raised his eyebrows slightly. 'Nick,' he said, 'that's not a favour; that's a sub-committee hearing, a long one.'

Fury bounced his head nervously. 'It could be nothing, it probably is nothing,' he replied. 'I just need time to make _sure_ it's nothing.'

'But if it's something?' asked the secretary.

'Then we'll both be glad those helicarriers aren't in the air,' Fury returned, looking him in the eye.

Pierce thought it over for a second. 'Fine,' he acquiesced, 'But you got to get Iron Man to stop by my niece's birthday party.'

Fury nodded. 'Thank you, sir.' He held out his hand.

'And not just a flyby,' Pierce said as he shook the offered hand. 'He's got to mingle.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 _To be continued..._

Let me know if there is anything I can do better, or if I made a mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dean walked quietly down the long halls of the Veterans Affairs building. The walls were painted tan with warm wood trim, the style of an old building, but Dean liked it; it wasn't overwhelming or scary. Nonetheless, Dean felt nervous and ironically out-of-place, and walked with his shoulders slightly hunched and with his hands in his pockets. He stopped in the doorway to a room where Rob Wilson stood at a podium, listening to a man tell of his episode earlier that week.

'I swerved to miss a plastic bag,' he said, deprecation evident in his tone. 'I thought it was an IED.' And IED was an improvised explosive device, commonly used as a roadside bomb.

'We all bring stuff back with us,' Rob said. 'PTSD is normal after a traumatic event, and nothing to be ashamed of. It can hit you hard, but you can learn to manage it. It is possible. And you are not alone. There are people who are going through the same thing, and people who want to help you.'

After the meeting, Rob met Dean out in the hallway. 'Look who it is,' greeted Rob, 'the running man.'

'I caught the last few minutes,' Dean said. 'It was pretty intense.'

'Yeah, brother, we all got the same type of problems: guilt, depression,' said Rob. He looked away and sucked in his lower lip for just a second, but his eyes held pain. Dean knew that look.

'You lose someone?' he asked gently.

'My wingman, Caleb,' said Rob with a nod of his head. 'We were flying a night mission, standard PJ, nothing we hadn't done a thousand times before. Till an RPG knocked Caleb right out of the sky. Nothing I could do,' Rob looked away again for a brief moment. 'It was like I was up there just to watch.'

'I'm sorry,' Dean said sincerely.

'After that,' Rob continued, 'I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there.'

Dean nodded, wanting to get off the topic of dead close friends; wondering if there truly was a chance of moving on from everything he had lost, he asked, 'Are you happy now? Back in the world?'

Rob started to smile. 'The number of people giving me orders is down to about…' he looked around, 'zero. So yeah.' He regarded Dean. 'You thinking of getting out?'

Dean shook his head. 'No,' he answered. His head was down and he was looking off to the side, contemplative and uncertain. Rob recognized the look of sadness in his eyes, and, he thought, possibly a flicker of hopelessness. Dean looked back up. 'I don't know,' he continued, 'Honestly, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I did.' He tried for a smirk, but it was weak.

Rob grinned. 'Ultimate fighting?' he suggested, making Dean chuckle. 'Just a great idea off the top of my head.' He turned serious again, but not so serious as to make Dean uncomfortable. 'Seriously, you can do just about anything. What makes you happy?'

 _My brother_ , was Dean's first thought. No second thoughts came. He inhaled. 'I don't know,' he answered.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Later that night, Dean trudged up the stairs to his apartment. It had been a long, hard day. First the memory swamp of his little brother, then the persistent sadness for his death, then Bobby died, then a talk with Rob that, while good to talk with someone who had common ground, still ended with Dean feeling stuck in this life even if he decided to quit. Dean was ready to collapse on the sofa and drink something hot.

'Yeah, that sounds great. Listen, I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow.' That was his neighbor, a pretty woman named Cassie who was the nurse that Zhanna would happily set him up with. Dean couldn't say he would mind. Cassie was a looker; she had brown skin, curly brown hair that was parted on the side, and pouty lips. She was tall, and Dean liked her sassy attitude. She turned to face him. 'Hey, Captain,' she greeted with a smirk that said she got a kick out of calling him that. She wasn't quite flirting, but was pushing the margin.

'Hey,' Dean replied with his charming smile. He noticed her laundry basket in her arms. 'You know, if you want, you can use my machine. I bet it's cheaper than the one downstairs.'

She raised her eyebrows at him. 'Oh really? What's it cost?'

'A cup of coffee?' Dean offered. He usually had no problem interacting with women, but suddenly he felt like he was putting himself out on the line. He had had only three dates since he went into the ice, and he wasn't even sure if he was ready for a relationship.

Cassie smiled at him, appreciating the gesture, but Dean could tell before she opened her mouth that the answer was no. 'I've already got a load going,' she began, trying to let him down gently, 'And you don't want my scrubs in your machine. I just finished a shift in the infectious disease ward.' She made a face to emphasize how germy her clothes were. It was an excuse and they both knew it, but still it was as nice of a refusal as possible.

'Ooh,' said Dean, faking fear of her germy scrubs, 'I'll keep my distance then.'

'Hopefully not too far,' she responded, throwing an encouraging look over her shoulder before she descended the stairs.

Dean smiled weakly at that; maybe someday then. As he moved to put his key in the lock, he heard his stereo playing a song from the 40s. He stopped. He had not left his music on when he had left.

Dean entered with his gun drawn. He didn't tote his gun around town, but he took it to and from his car. The lights were off, which was good, and Dean sneaked quietly down the hall past his kitchen and peered into the living room. There was Director Fury, lounging in one of the chairs by the stereo. Dean leaned against the wall and sighed.

'I don't remember giving you a key,' he said, voice full of annoyance.

'You really think I'd need one?' Fury asked in mild surprise. _No, you dirtbag, that's the problem,_ thought Dean, but before he could voice such an acerbic sentiment, Fury continued, 'My wife kicked me out.' His voice sounded tired, like he had been punched in the gut.

Dean shifted in surprise. 'I didn't know you were married.'

'There're a lot of things you don't know about me,' replied Fury.

'Yeah,' Dean returned unamused, 'but that's a pretty big one.' He turned on the lights and stared. Fury had bruises everywhere and he was holding his left arm close like it was hurt. He looked like he had lost a fight with a tank. Indiana Jones he was not.

Fury silenced Dean with a move of his hand, then reached over to the light next to him and pulled the chain, returning the room to darkness. He held his phone so that Dean could see the typed message on the screen: "EARS EVERYWHERE."

'I'm sorry to have to do this, but I had no place else to crash,' Fury said, then typed another message on his screen: "SHIELD COMPROMISED."

Dean recovered quickly. 'Who else knows about your wife?' he asked, playing along.

Fury grunted as he stood and walk over to Dean. 'Just my friends,' he said slowly as he showed the next message: "YOU AND ME," answering the real question Dean had asked.

Dean felt a surge of anger. You didn't treat friends the way Fury treated him; keeping important secrets, going behind one's back, shoving views in one's face. 'Is that what we are?' Dean asked sharply. 'Friends?'

'That's up to you,' Fury said cryptically. But he had no time to explain. Three shots rang out, coming through the window and imbedding in the director as he cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground. Dean crouched down and dragged him into the hall as his adrenalin started to pump, and glancing up out of the window he saw a glint of something metal. Fury held up a hand to him, the flash drive from the _Lemurian Star_ in his palm. 'Don't,' Fury gasped, 'trust anyone.' Blood was seeping from his mouth, and he lost himself in unconsciousness. Dean brow was furrowed in shock at this sudden turn of events, but he had no time to process anything at the sound of his door being forced open. He whipped around, grabbing his shield, ready to beat anyone to a pulp.

'Captain Winchester?' came Cassie's cautious voice. She entered the room, gun drawn. Dean's eyes widened in surprise. 'Captain,' she said when she saw him, 'I'm Agent 13, SHIELD Special Service. I've been assigned to protect you.' They both knew she meant spy on.

'On whose orders?' Dean demanded, even though he was sure he already knew.

Cassie – Agent 13 stopped when she saw Fury. 'His.' She dropped to her knees next to Fury and placed one hand on his neck while she pulled a walkie-talkie out of her sweatshirt. 'Foxtrot is down. I need EMTs,' she said.

'Do we have a 20 on the shooter?' asked the crackly voice on the other end.

Dean had been staring out the window. He saw a figure move on the roof of the next building. 'Tell them I'm in pursuit.'

Dean launched himself out of his fifth-floor window, across the street, and into the fourth-floor window of the building over, his shield making short work of the glass. He leapt to his feet and ran full speed down the hall of the office he had landed in. Looking up through a skylight he could see the assassin running along the roof top; he knew he was being followed.

Dean held his shield in front of his body as he busted a set of double doors clear off their hinges. He turned the corner of the hall, busting through more doors on his way to the end. Through the window at the end, he saw the assassin jump and roll onto the roof of the lower building in front. Dean crashed through the window to the roof and executed a roll, bringing himself to his feet. He threw his shield with all his might, grunting with the effort.

The assassin turned around swiftly and caught it, his left arm made entirely of metal. He was tall, wearing black tactical clothes, and had dark camouflage make-up smudged around his eyes. There was a black mask over the lower half of his face, and his long brown hair brushed the top of his shoulders. He whipped the shield back at Dean with enough force that when he caught it he slid back several feet.

Dean was astonished. No-one had ever caught his shield before; it would almost rip off their arms if they tried. He would bet that the metal arm was made of vibranium, the strongest metal on earth, the same as his shield. He looked up, but in those short seconds the man had gone. He ran to the edge of the building, but the streets were quiet. The assassin had disappeared.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Dean stood alone in the observation room of the hospital, watching through the one-way glass as the doctors performed surgery to save Fury. It wasn't looking so good. Dean thought that having people watch him while he was in surgery would give him the creeps, and whose brilliant idea was that anyway? Seeing loved ones cut open and bloody sheets? Brilliant idea. Stunning, really. Just the thing to calm a person down. It was actually for physicians in training, but Dean didn't know that.

Zhanna ran in. She looked quite good for almost 11:00 at night, though Dean supposed she was not one to go to bed early. She was wearing dark skinny jeans, a black scoop-neck tee, and a green pseudo-field jacket.

She stared at Fury for a moment. 'Is he going to make it?' she asked.

'I don't know,' Dean replied with a subdued tone. It wasn't easy losing a member of his team, even if he didn't particularly like him.

'Tell me about the shooter,' Zhanna requested.

'He was fast, strong,' said Dean, 'had a metal arm.'

Just then Agent Jody Mills walked in, called in by Fury before he had been attacked the first time in a fight that had messed up downtown traffic. Agent Mills was in her early forties, had short brown hair that was always neatly done, and a pretty – though not beautiful – face. She was Fury's right hand man. Dean had never seen her not in uniform before tonight.

'Ballistics?' Zhanna inquired.

'Three slugs, no rifling, completely untraceable,' answered Agent Mills, succinct as always.

'Soviet made,' said Zhanna. It was a statement.

'Yeah,' said Agent Mills turning to her, only mildly surprised.

The doctors pulled the defibrillator over and place the pads on Fury's chest. They shocked him several times with no success, and soon called his time of death.

After they had said their goodbyes to Fury, Agent Mills got things ready to take the body, and the other two agents walked back into the hospital hallway. Zhanna turned on Dean.

'Why was Fury in your apartment?' she asked suspiciously.

'He didn't get to tell me,' Dean replied. Zhanna had more questions on her lips, but just then Trenton walked up behind Dean.

'Cap, they want you back at SHIELD,' he informed him.

'Ok, give me a minute,' Dean said already turning back around.

'They want you now,' Trenton insisted rudely.

Dean looked him in the eye, annoyed. 'Ok,' he replied forcefully.

When he turned back, Zhanna asked, 'Did he give you any clues?'

Dean gave her a meaningful look in the eye. 'I'll have to think on it,' he said. Zhanna tilted her chin up and looked at him, catching his meaning, before walking away. When she was gone, Dean pulled the flash drive out of his pocket. If SHIELD were compromised, then he couldn't take it there. His options were limited, with the STRIKE team behind him down the hall, getting antsy to leave. He noticed that the vending machine next to him was being refilled, and he took a moment to slip the flash drive behind several packs of bubblegum. He would come back later.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next day, Dean, in his Captain America get-up complete with his shield nestled on his back, marched down the halls to the former office of the director, where he had been summoned for a meeting by Secretary Pierce. On his way there he passed Agent 13.

'Captain Winchester,' she said in acknowledgement as she passed him.

'Neighbor,' Dean responded coldly.

'Ah, Captain. I'm Alexander Pierce,' greeted the secretary.

'Sir. It's an honour,' Dean replied, reaching out to take the extended hand.

'The honour's all mine, Captain. My father served in the 101st. Come on in,' said Pierce.

Dean had never seen Pierce before, but he knew he held a high ranking in SHIELD and dealt with the political side of things. He noticed that he was a rather short man in his sixties, with wrinkles on his face, and had short brown hair that was receding; he was probably a handsome man in his youth. His smile was wide and his suit sharp. On his right pointer finger he had a silver ring with a yellow stone; it wasn't a very beautiful stone, more mustard yellow than sunshine yellow, and had darker colouring in the middle that made it look like an eye.

'That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met,' the secretary was saying as Dean held a grainy picture, 'when I was at State Department in Bogota. E.L.N. rebels took the embassy, and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages. Nick was Deputy Chief of the SHIELD station there, and he comes to me with a plan: he wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said, "No, we'll negotiate." Turned out, the E.L.N. didn't negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They storm the basement, and what do they find? They find it empty.' Pierce and Dean sat down in the black chairs, Dean setting his shield down. Pierce continued. 'Nick had ignored my direct order and carried out an unauthorized military operation on foreign soil, and saved the lives of a dozen political officers, including my daughter.'

'So you gave him a promotion,' Dean said.

'And I've never had any cause to regret it,' responded Pierce. There was a slight lull in the conversation. 'Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?'

Dean took a breath. 'He never got the chance to say,' he replied. 'He was shot before he could say anything significant.'

'Did you know it was bugged?' asked Pierce.

'Yeah, because Nick told me.'

'Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?'

'No, but I wouldn't be surprised,' said Dean.

Pierce took a breath. 'I want you to see something,' he said. He turned on the screen on the wall and a video of Batroc's interrogation came up.

'Is that live?' Dean inquired.

'Yeah. They picked him up last night in a not-so-safe house in Algiers,' responded the secretary.

'Are you saying he's a suspect? Assassination isn't Batroc's line,' Dean said.

'No, it's more complicated than that,' Pierce said. 'Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the _Lemurian Star_. He was contacted by e-mail and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through 17 fictitious accounts. The last one going to a holding company that was registered to a Daniel Elkin.' He handed Dean a file with the information.

'Am I supposed to know who that is?' Dean asked. He was getting continually suspicious of Pierce; something in the way he spoke made him think he had an agenda.

'Not likely. Elkin died six years ago,' Pierce replied. 'His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick his mother lived at 1437.'

Dean looked up. 'Are you saying Fury hired the pirates?' he asked with a hint of incredulity. 'Why would he?'

'The prevailing theory? the hijack was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence,' Pierce answered. 'The sale went sour, and that led to Nick's death.'

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Fury would stoop to many things, but he was loyal to his organization. 'If you really knew Nick Fury, then you would know that's not true,' Dean said, looking him in the eye.

Pierce nodded. 'Why do you think we're talking?' He stood, and walked towards the giant window behind the desk. 'You see, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to, because we were both realists,' he said as he rested his arm on the window. 'We knew that despite all the diplomacy and the handshaking and the rhetoric, that to build a really better world, sometimes means having to tear the old one down.' He turned to face Dean. 'And that makes enemies. Those people who call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud to try to build something better, and the idea that those people could be happy today, makes me really, really angry.' There was a silence. Pierce looked at Dean. 'Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive; I don't think that's an accident,' his tone was slightly threatening. 'And I don't think you do either. So I'm gonna ask again: why was he there?'

Dean could tell that Pierce would think he was hiding something no matter what he said, and he was going to take Fury's last bit of advice. 'All he said was not to trust anyone,' was his only answer.

'I wonder,' said Pierce, 'it that included him.' Another silence stretched.

Dean was a decent liar, but some people will suspect you no matter what. Dean decided to return the favour and put Alexander Pierce on his Suspicious List, and also that it was time to leave. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but those were his last words. Excuse me.' He picked up his shield and made to leave.

'Captain,' said Pierce as he sat on the corner of the desk with his hands in his pockets, 'somebody murdered my friend, and I'm gonna find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is gonna regret it.' He tilted his head a fraction at Dean. 'Anyone.'

Dean looked him in the eye. 'Understood.' He turned and left.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He went to the elevator at the end of the hall, the one in the corner with the two glass walls. Leaning on the rail, he gave the computer an order. 'Operations control.'

'Confirmed,' stated the computer. The doors began to close but Trenton caught the doors and he and some of his STRIKE team entered.

'Keep all STRIKE personnel on site,' he said into his mic. 'Forensics,' he told the computer.

'Confirmed,' it stated.

'Cap,' greeted Trenton.

'Trenton,' greeted Dean. The doors slid closed and the elevator started to descend.

'Evidence Response found some fibers on the roof they want us to see,' said Trenton way too quickly to Dean. 'You want me to get the tac team ready?'

'Nah, let's see what it is first,' Dean replied.

'Right,' Trenton said as he turned to face the door. He sounded out of breath. Dean noticed that one of the STRIKE team members had his hand on his gun, as though he expected to use it soon. The elevator stopped and more STRIKE team members got on – though they were wearing suits instead of the usual tactical gear –, talking indistinctly with one another, and asked the computer for Administrations.

'Hey,' said Trenton to Dean, 'I'm sorry about what happened with Fury. It's messed up what happened to him.'

'Thanks,' said Dean. He took a slow, careful look at all the team members, and noticed that one guy had a bead of sweat running down his temple. It was not hot.

The elevator stopped again for three more STRIKE team members. They asked for Records and the doors shut. Dean took stock of the situation once again: they had him surrounded, they were acting nervous, and he hadn't forgotten Pierce's threat.

'Before we get started,' he asked, 'does anyone want to get off?'

There was a short pause as the team processed that they were busted, then one of the men in front turned on a stick that gave a powerful electrical shock and lunged at him. Dean blocked it but was quickly grabbed from behind and pulled to the side of the elevator. He struggled, and one of the suits took the handle off his briefcase and locked it around Dean's wrist; it was a powerfully magnetized handcuff, and he was trying to stick it on to a bar on the wall of the elevator. Dean fought it mightily, but the guy on his left was also fixing to cuff him. He kicked the man holding his arm in the knee, and elbowed the guy on his left in the face, sending the second handcuff flying onto the wall. He kicked one of the guys holding his torso and threw off the guy on his back, but Trenton kicked his wrist and sent it flying backwards, making the handcuff stick to the bar.

Dean struggled to pull it off, but quickly had to turn around to block Trenton and his electric stick. He kicked another guy away, and Trenton lunged again and shocked him in the back. It hurt, and Dean's muscles spasmed, but he managed to turn and elbow Trenton in the face, before throwing one guy up and into the security camera. He blocked one guy and in the process caused him to shock his teammate, then kicked two guys away using the handcuff for support, before turning and bracing both feet on the wall and pulling the handcuff away with all his might. It gave, and Dean executed a flip before landing on his feet to incapacitate two more men.

'Whoa, big guy,' said Trenton, holding two electric sticks. 'I just want you to know, Cap, this isn't personal!' He lunged and Dean blocked one stick, but the another went into his gut. He yelled before pulling away and throwing a punch at Trenton, who ducked and threw one of his own, which Dean blocked, but got the other stick in his gut for his trouble. He yelled again, knocked the arms away, grabbed Trenton and threw him up so that he banged into the roof of the elevator before falling to the ground in a heap. All the men were now temporarily out of commission.

Dean glared at them. 'Well, it feels personal,' he spat. He stepped on the edge of his shield, sending it flying up as he grabbed its straps. He used it to break off the handcuff before hitting the open button. The doors opened to reveal an entire team of STRIKE agents with guns pointed at him.

'Drop the shield and put your hands in the air!' one commanded.

Dean whirled around and cut the elevator cables with his shield, sending it into a freefall. It dropped many floors before the brakes kicked in and halted it half way between two floors. Dean reached up and pried the doors open, only to see more STRIKE agents running down the hall. He closed the doors. Looking out the window, he could see that he was above the main entrance building, which had a glass roof. It was his best hope of escape.

'Give it up, Winchester! Get that door open!' someone shouted. 'You have nowhere to go!'

But he did. He held his shield in front of his body and leapt out the elevator wall, smashing the glass. He then fell about 20 stories before crashing through the glass roof, then continued down to the floor from the ceiling that was three or four stories tall, scaring the workers in the lobby. He groaned as he uncoiled and stood, feeling the ache and impact in his muscles. But there was no time to lose. He was soon on his feet and running for the garage.

Soon he was on his motorcycle and speeding away, but the gate to the bridge was closing. He pulled his motorcycle into a jump and just made it through the concrete doors. As he sped down the bridge the metal blockades at the booth reared their pointy heads, and a fighter jet swung around in front of him; the pilot's voice on speaker ordered him to stand down. Dean sped up, seeing his way past the blockades.

The jet fired at him, but the guns were not made for hitting a one-man target. Dean threw his shield into the engine on the right wing, then stood and hit the front brake on his bike, launching himself through the air and onto the jet. He grabbed his shield and leapt off the opposite wind, landing safely beyond the metal spikes. The jet crashed harmlessly (for the pilots) onto the bridge, and Captain Winchester was off.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Back at SHIELD, Agent Gordon Walker addressed the agents in the computer room.

'Eyes here,' he demanded. 'Whatever your op is, bury it. This is Level One. Contact DOT. All traffic lights in the district go red. Shut all runways at BWI, IAD, and Reagan. All security cameras in the city go through this monitor right here,' he jerked a thumb at the screen behind him, which featured a picture of Captain Winchester. 'Scan all open sources: phones, computers, PDAs, whatever. If someone tweets about this guy, I want to know about it.'

'With all due respect,' said Cassie, who was an agent in the computer room, 'if SHIELD is conducting a manhunt for Captain America, we deserve to know why.'

Walker was clearly displeased with the demand, but he was saved the trouble of an answer by Pierce's entrance.

'Because he lied to us,' answered Pierce. 'Captain Winchester has information regarding the death of Director Fury. He refused to share it. As difficult as this is to accept, Captain America is a fugitive from SHIELD.'

Later, Pierce met with the holograms of the WSC, and argued against their position on Fury's actions. In the end, Project Insight was reactivated.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 _To be continued…_

Remember to tell me what you liked and disliked so I can improve it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean slipped back into the hospital, intent on retrieving the flash drive. He wore the best disguise he could come up with without going back to his apartment: black athletic pants, a grey-speckled T-shirt, and a black sweatshirt with the hood up. He was sure he looked menacing; he was just too big to look innocent.

When he stopped in front of the vending machine, he saw with horror that every single pack of gum was gone, and with them the flash drive. For a moment he feared that the STRIKE crew had recovered it, but then the reflection in the glass revealed Zhanna popping a pink bubble. Dean turned around and checked the halls. When he saw that no-one was looking, he grabbed her arm and forced her into another room.

He shoved her up against a wall. 'Where is it?' he demanded quietly, yanking off his hood.

'Safe,' she answered, surprised at his aggression.

'Do better.'

'Where did you get it?' she asked.

'None of your business,' he snapped.

'Fury gave it to you,' she realized. 'Why?'

'What's on it?' Dean demanded, figuring that if she had it, she had looked at it.

'I don't know,' she said as though she thought he was stupid.

Dean gripped her and gave her a shake. 'Stop lying to me!'

'I only act like I know everything, Winchester,' she shot back.

'I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?' he asked.

She seemed a bit shaken at the rough treatment, but wisely responded. 'Well it makes sense. The ship was dirty and Fury needed a way in.'

'Where is it now?' Dean demanded again, tightening his grip. He was getting tired of this.

Her eyes widened. 'I know who killed Fury,' she said in lieu of answer. That got Dean's attention. He waited for her to continue. 'Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists; the ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He is credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years.'

'So he's a ghost story,' Dean stated. He was several different people showing up over the decades, more than likely working for the same organization.

'Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran,' Zhanna told him. 'Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa; I lost control and went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so he shot him through me.' She pulled up the hem of her shirt to reveal a painful-looking scar near her bellybutton. 'Soviet slug, no rifling.' She cast Dean a flirty glance. 'Bye-bye bikinis.'

Dean stared at her, unimpressed. 'Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now,' he quipped.

She drew in a breath. 'Going after him is a dead end. I know; I've tried. Like you said,' she pulled the flash drive out of her pocket, 'he's a ghost story.' She smirked at him.

Dean didn't give in to the levity. He kept her in his imprisoning stare and plucked the flash drive from her hand. 'Well,' he said, 'let's find out what the ghost wants then.'

They made a stop to get Dean some less conspicuous clothes: dark trousers, sneakers, a blue sweat jacket, blue baseball cap and black "smart-people" glasses; he kept the tee. Zhanna also changed; she now wore an athletic top and pants with tennis shoes and a grey sweat jacket; her hair was pulled back in a ponytail under the hood.

'First rule of going on the run,' Zhanna was saying, 'is don't run, walk.'

'I know,' said Dean. He spent time in Nazi Germany; of course he knew. They were walking through the mall, heading for the computer lounge. They soon found it on the second floor.

Zhanna woke-up the computer. 'This drive has a Level Six homing program,' she said quietly, 'so as soon as we plug it in SHIELD will know exactly where we are.'

Dean looked around worriedly. 'How much time will we have?'

'About nine minutes,' she answered, 'from now.' She plugged in the drive and started searching through the information. 'Fury was right about that ship; somebody is trying to hide something,' she said. 'This drive is protected by some sort of AI; it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands.'

'Can you override it?' asked Dean.

Zhanna made a "yikes" face. 'The person who developed this is slightly smarter than I,' she replied. 'Slightly.' Dean felt marginal relief; they might make it. They did not know that the STRIKE team was already pulling up outside the mall.

'I'm going to try running a tracer,' Zhanna said after a minute. 'It's a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so, if we can't read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from.'

'Can I help you guys with anything?' asked one of the workers in an Apple shirt. He was a total hippie: skinny with a mullet and multiple ear piercings. He struck Dean as the kind of guy who would forget his pants.

Zhanna smiled fetchingly at him. 'Oh, no thanks. We got it,' she said as sweetly as possible.

'Ok,' he replied, 'If you guys need anything, I am Ash.' He held up his name badge.

'Thanks,' said Dean and mentally swept him away. They needed to hurry up and get out of here. 'How much longer?' he asked anxiously, looking at his watch.

'Relax,' Zhanna replied. 'Got it.' She smirked as the computer zoomed in on a location: Wheaton, New Jersey. She glanced back at Dean and saw his dropped-open jaw. 'You know it?' she asked.

'I did,' he replied. 'Let's go.' He pulled out the drive and they hurried away. As they walked quickly threw the hall, Dean noticed the agents. 'Standard tac team,' he informed his partner, 'two behind, two across, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I'll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro-'

'Shut up and put your arm around me; laugh at something I said,' ordered Zhanna.

'What?' Dean asked, caught off guard.

'Do it!' Zhanna insisted. Dean threw his arm over her shoulders, leaned down, and laughed. They agents passed right by them. Dean looked behind, shock written over his face. _Nice,_ he thought.

It didn't last long. As they were coming down the elevator, Zhanna saw Trenton coming up. He would see them any second.

She turned around. 'Kiss me,' she said to Dean.

'What?'

'Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.'

'Yes, they do,' Dean agreed. But Zhanna quickly put her hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his; he barely had enough time to put his hand on her waist before Trenton passed them, looking away uncomfortably.

Zhanna pulled away. 'You still uncomfortable?' she snarked.

'That's one word for it,' Dean replied.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Later found them driving on the road entering New Jersey.

'Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?' Zhanna inquired.

'Nazi Germany,' said Dean, 'and we're borrowing. Get your feet off the dash.'

Zhanna put her feet on the floor and straightened up a little. 'I have a question for you,' she began, 'which you do not have to answer. Though I think that by not answering it, you are answering it, in a way-'

'What?' Dean said, cutting her off.

She couldn't keep the grin out of her voice. 'Was that your first kiss since 1945?'

Dean huffed. 'That bad, huh?'

'I didn't say that,' Zhanna rushed to assure him.

'Well it sounds like that's what you're saying,' Dean said defensively.

'No, I'm not,' she said, trying to mollify him. 'It was actually good, just hesitant, so I wondered-'

'It was not my first kiss since 1945,' Dean interrupted. He had gone on a few casual dates, and had given a few meaningless kisses. He also knew that he was a good kisser; at least, he had been as of 1945.

'Is there a special someone?' asked Zhanna. She seemed very relaxed talking about his personal life.

Dean chuckled. 'It's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience.'

'That's ok; just make something up,' Zhanna said as if it were the easiest thing in the world to fake being someone else 24/7.

'That's hard to maintain,' said Dean.

'Truth is a matter of circumstance,' she replied. 'It's not the same for all people, all the time. And neither am I.'

'What a load a garbage. Truth is like glass; it doesn't bend. It's either whole or it's broken. You can change your colours, but you're still a chameleon.' _Wow, I sound like my brother,_ Dean thought, and then felt a swift pang of sadness.

'Good point,' conceded she. 'Let me put it another way: the truth I present to people is not necessarily true.' She raised her eyebrows at him like it was funny.

'That's a tough way to live,' Dean said.

Zhanna turned thoughtful. 'It's a good way not to die though,' she said. She looked at Dean. 'Who do you want me to be?'

A corner of Dean's mouth lifted up. 'How about a friend?' he said. Zhanna smiled.

In was night by the time they reached the coordinates. It was an old army training camp, long abandoned.

'The file came from these coordinates,' said Zhanna in mild confusion as she climbed out of the car and stretched her limbs.

'So did I,' stated Dean as he looked at the familiar surroundings: the old brick buildings that made up the warehouse and the barracks, the flag pole that was now bare. 'This camp is where I was trained.'

Zhanna walked around holding up a device that "did lots of modern stuff" according to Dean. Dean, meanwhile, felt both a little lost and a little at home in the camp where he was chosen for the super-soldier serum experiment. He remembered the running that he could barely do; he often had to walk and endure the frustrated yelling of the drill sergeant. He thought of the push-ups he could barely do, and the first time he saw Lisa; he was impressed by her; she didn't let the guys treat her like a piece of meat.

'This is a dead end,' said Zhanna. 'Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off...' She trailed off when she saw the look on Dean's face: thinking hard and suspicious. 'What is it?' she asked.

Dean was staring at a bunker that would have been used to store ammunitions. 'Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 yards of the barracks,' he said; 'this building is in the wrong place.'

He walked up to the door and used his shield to bust open the lock; Zhanna trailed behind. They walked down the stairs, turned on the lights, and found themselves in a large, pillared room with many neat-rowed desks with the emblem of SHIELD on the wall.

'This is where SHIELD started,' said Zhanna, slightly awed.

They continued into a room that had been used to store files, and on the back wall there were sepia pictures of the founders of SHIELD.

'That's Stark's father,' said Zhanna, looking at the one in the middle.

'Howard,' said Dean. He was the man who built the equipment that channeled the serum. But Dean was looking at a picture off to the right.

Who's the girl?' asked Zhanna, following his gaze.

'Lisa,' was all Dean said. As he walked down the hall, he noticed some of the cobwebs on the file cases blowing, but there should have been no breeze. 'If you already have a secret office,' he said as he grabbed the case and pulled it aside to reveal what was behind. 'Why do you need to hide the elevator?'

They entered and took it to the bottom floor, only one level beneath the surface. Stepping off revealed a room that was dimly lit with a green glow from night lights on the ceiling. As they walked forward the main lights kicked on, and they could clearly see an enormous room filled with databanks and a large computer base in the middle.

'This can't be the data point,' Zhanna all but scoffed. 'This technology is ancient.' She then noticed a sleek, black, flash drive base sitting on the desk connected to the computer. 'Except that,' she amended. She plugged in the flash drive that Dean handed her, and every piece of technology in the room started to whir. Cameras atop the computers turned towards them, and an electronic voice from the middle computer asked: 'Initiate system?'

Zhanna placed her fingers on the old, dusty keyboard. 'Y-e-s spells "yes,"' she said. The computers booted up and she grinned. 'Shall we play a game?' she said in a mysterious voice. She turned to Dean. 'That's from a movie that was-'

'I know,' he interrupted her, 'I saw it.'

The computer beeped, and a static, green image that looked like a skull appeared on the screen. 'Winchester, Dean,' it said in a voice that had an accent that sounded vaguely German. 'Born 1916.' The camera moved to Zhanna. 'Romanov, Zhanna Alianovna. Born 1984.'

'It's a recording of some kind,' said Zhanna. She was clearly a little weirded out.

'I am not a recording, Fräulein,' the voice said indignantly. 'I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am still alive.' A picture appeared on a screen to the right. It was of a plump, middle-aged man with round glasses, creepy beyond belief, with malevolence lurking behind his eyes.

'You know this thing?' asked Zhanna with disgust colouring her voice.

Dean regarded it with a strange expression. 'Luther Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull,' he replied. 'He's been dead for years.'

'First correction, I am Swiss,' said the conceited voice. 'Second, look around you; I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body; my mind, however, that was worth saving, on 200,000 feet of databanks. You are standing in my brain.'

'Gross,' Dean muttered. Then commandingly, 'How did you get here?'

'Invited,' chirped Luther's voice.

'Operation Paperclip,' said Zhanna to Dean. 'After the war, SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value.'

'They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own,' Luther's voice said mysteriously.

'HYDRA died with the Red Skull,' protested Dean.

An image of the HYDRA emblem appeared on the screen for a brief moment; a skull with six octopus tentacles coming from it. 'Cut off one head, two more shall take its place,' the voice uttered the infamous motto.

'Prove it,' Dean said lowly.

'Accessing archive,' said Luther's voice. Images of the past appeared on the screen. 'HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist.' A clip of Captain America flashed across the screen. 'The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew, a beautiful parasite inside SHIELD.' Several pictures slid by with HYDRA emblems over several faces. Dean watched in horror. 'For 70 years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war, and when history did not co-operate, history was changed.' A photo of a metal arm with a red star on the deltoid came up, and Dean recognized it as the arm of Fury's assassin.

'That's impossible,' Zhanna said in disbelief. 'SHIELD would have stopped you.'

'Accidents will happen,' said Luther's voice darkly, yet shot through with glee. A newspaper headline of Howard's death, and Fury's file stamped with "deceased," appeared. 'HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise.' Images flashed by revealing a satellite marked "Insight" and the new weaponized helicarriers that Dean had seen at SHIELD. 'We won, Captain,' continued Luther's voice. 'Your death amounts to the same as your life: a zero sum.'

Angered by all he had seen, Dean delivered a strong punch to the screen, breaking the glass and short-circuiting the wires behind it. The ugly green image, however, reappeared on the screen to the right.

'As I was saying,' it said, just to be annoying.

'What's on this drive?' Dean demanded.

'Project Insight requires… insight,' said Luther's voice, 'so I wrote an algorithm.'

'What kind of algorithm? What does it do?' Zhanna asked urgently.

'The answer to your question is fascinating,' answered Luther's voice. 'Unfortunately, you will be too dead to hear it.' Suddenly, the elevator doors started to close. Dean threw his shield, trying to wedge it in between the doors, but it was too late. Zhanna's device beeped as he caught his shield.

'Dean, we've got a bogey,' she said worriedly. 'Short range ballistic. 30 seconds tops.'

'Who fired it?' Dean said almost harshly in his anger and worry.

'SHIELD,' she said, her face pinched with fear.

'I'm afraid I have been stalling, Captain,' said the annoying voice. 'Admit it, it is better this way. We are both of us out of time.'

Zhanna grabbed the drive from the base and Dean yanked a grate off the floor to reveal the hole underneath. He grabbed Zhanna, shoved her in, and leapt in after her, pulling the grate over them. Dean wasn't as worried by getting blown up – since they were underground – as he was about getting buried, and then caught. The missile hit, exploding the bunker into pieces. As soon as the big debris settled, Dean was pushing things out of the way with his shield. He could see the planes of SHIELD sweeping the area for them. Grabbing Zhanna, who was very shaken, he pulled her along behind him by the wrist until they reached the forest, then, picking her up, he ran.

Trenton swept the blast site with a large gun, looking for signs of life. He found one: two sets of footprints, one overlapping the other. He knew they needed to take this to the next level to catch the fugitives.

'Call in the asset,' he said into his mic.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Pierce walked through his large, modern home. It had a glass hallway that looked out into the backyard on one side, with openings to rooms on the other. He opened the door of the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, stopping when he saw the Winter Soldier sitting at his dining room table in the dark. He was expecting him, but it was still surprising to see him there with a powerful handgun on the table.

'I am going to go, Mr. Pierce,' called his housekeeper from the other room. 'Do you need anything before I leave?'

'No,' he answered. 'Uh, it's fine, Renata. You can go home.'

'Ok. Night-night,' said the kind lady.

'Goodnight,' he replied, eyes never leaving the man at his table. He waited until he heard the front door close. 'Want some milk?' he offered. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, having no intention of sharing the milk. The man at his table said nothing and moved none. 'The timetable is moved,' he said. 'Our window is limited.' He poured enough milk for three oreos and left the carton on the counter. 'Two targets, Level Six. They already cost me Zola,' he continued, sitting down at the table. 'I want confirmed death in 10 hours.'

'Sorry, Mr. Pierce,' said his housekeeper. He turned around. 'I forgot… my… phone.' She stared at the man in the dark nervously, before looking to Pierce with questioning eyes.

'Oh, Renata,' he said, squeezing his eyes. 'I wish you would have knocked.' He picked up the gun and fired two bullets into her chest.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Rob Wilson had just completed a run when he heard a knock at his door. He opened it to reveal a dirty Dean and a dirty blonde.

'Hey, man,' he said.

'I'm sorry about this,' said Dean, 'but we need a place to lay low.'

'Everyone we know is trying to kill us,' said the blonde. She seemed distracted.

Rob looked from her to Dean. 'Not everyone,' he said, and motioned for them to enter. He checked to see if anyone was watching before he pulled the blinds shut.

Zhanna and Dean took turns in the shower. They had fetched their go-bag before they came to Rob, so they had clothes; a go-bag was a bag with clothing, money, and any passports or tools needed, that was hidden in case of emergency. Zhanna had made them one when they got their fugitive clothes, and now they were back in their regular jeans and shirts. When Dean walked out of the bathroom, Zhanna was drying her hair with a towel and she seemed bothered by something.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing.'

 _My ear,_ thought Dean. _Man,_ he inwardly whined, _Therapist is_ _ **not**_ _in my job description._ But he sat down on the bed anyway. 'Talk to me,' he said, trying to dampen the gruffness that came naturally to him when talking about personal issues.

Zhanna shrugged. 'When I joined SHEILD, I thought I was going straight,' she admitted. 'But it turns out I just traded in the KGB for HYDRA.' She looked at him thoughtfully. 'I owe you.'

Dean shook his head. 'No, you don't.'

'If it were the other way around,' she persisted, 'and it were up to me to save your life, would you trust me to do it? And be honest.'

He looked her full in the face. 'I would now,' he said sincerely.

She scanned his face for any dishonesty, but finding none, her eyes widened slightly. Zhanna Romanov was not used to being trusted.

Rob appeared in the doorway. 'I made breakfast, if you guys are hungry.'

'Thanks, dude,' said Dean. Rob turned and left.

Zhanna scoffed. 'Out of all the modern slang to pick up, you choose "dude,"' she said.

'I like "dude,"' Dean said as he stood up, shaking off the touchy-feely atmosphere. 'It has a nice ring to it.' Zhanna made a dramatic show of rolling her eyes. 'I could call you "dudette" if you feel left out,' he offered cheekily.

'No,' she said.

'Dudette Romanov,' he said. 'Agent Dudette.' Zhanna rolled her towel into a rat's tail and whipped him on the hip. He left the room laughing.

They sat around the dining room table, dressed in their regular clothes. Dean was in blue jeans, a forest-green shirt, biker boots, and had a grey-green military-style jacket hanging on the back of his chair. Zhanna was wearing black stretchy jeans, a dark purple shirt, flat black boots, and a brown leather jacket; her hair was in a ponytail. 'So, the question is,' said Zhanna as she scrapped jam across her toast, 'who at SHIELD would launch a domestic missile strike?'

'Pierce,' said Dean around a mouthful of eggs.

'Who happens to be sitting in the most secure building in the world,' Zhanna said.

'He's not working alone,' Dean said. 'Zola's algorithm was on the _Lemurian Star._ Someone had to put it there.'

'Gordon Walker was on the ship,' Zhanna realized.

Dean sighed. 'So now the question is: how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?'

'The answer is,' stated Rob, ' _you_ don't,' He dropped a file onto the table.

'What's this?' asked Dean as he crunched a piece of bacon.

'Call it a resumé.'

Zhanna picked up the picture on front. 'Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?' she asked. She turned to Dean, impressed. 'You didn't say he was a pararescue.'

Dean looked at the picture of two men in full uniform. 'Is this Caleb?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Rob answered with a nod, his voice filled with untold memories.

'I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs,' continued Zhanna. 'Did you use a stealth chute?'

'No,' he answered. 'These.' He handed the file to Dean, who opened it.

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you were a pilot.'

'I never said pilot,' said Rob, clearly amused.

Dean considered, his face turning grave. 'I can't ask you to do this, Rob. You got out for a good reason.'

'Dude,' said Rob, becoming eager, 'Captain America needs my help. I can't think of a better reason to get back in.'

Dean quirked a lopsided smirk. 'Where can we get one of these?' he asked Rob.

'The last one is at Fort Meade; behind three guarded gates and a 12-inch steel wall.'

They both looked at Zhanna. Breaking and entering was her thing. She let the look on her face do the shrug for her. 'Shouldn't be a problem,' she said.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Soon, outside the Occidental Hotel, Gordon Walker and a senator were observed exiting the opulent building. The senator was an older, ugly man who had almost no sense of propriety, but Walker handled him with indulgent grace. Walker was a somewhat imposing black man with a sure and arrogant air about him. He was broad-chested, and though not ugly, not exactly handsome either; a "decent looking" man. As he watched the senator and his service men leaving, his phone rang. Pulling it out, he saw that it was Alexander Pierce.

'I need a minute,' he told his bodyguards. 'Bring the car around.' He answered when they left. 'Yes, sir?'

'Agent Walker, how was lunch?' said the smug voice on the other end of the line. 'I hear the crab cakes here are delicious.'

Agent Walker looked concerned, but not enough to not be annoyed. 'Who is this?' he asked.

'The good-looking guy in the sunglasses, your 10 o'clock.'

Walker turned around. There, in a chair in the outdoor café, was a black man in sunglasses holding a phone to his ear. He toasted Walker with his iced tea.

Walker was stiff. 'What do you want?' he asked, expecting some sort of demand for ransom or information.

'You're going to go around the corner to your right,' answered the man. 'There's a grey car two spaces down. You and I are going to take a ride.'

Walker scoffed. 'And why would I do that?'

'Because that tie looks really expensive,' said the man, drawing out the word "really." 'And I'd hate to mess it up.'

Looking down, Walker saw a red sniper dot on his chest. Alarmed, he looked around, but there was no-one suspicious to be seen. The most prudent course of action was to get into the car, and Walker was a prudent man.

It wasn't long before Agent Walker was on the flat roof of a building being introduced to the anger of Dean Winchester. A mighty kick sent him sprawling as Captain Winchester and Zhanna advanced on him quickly.

'Tell me about Zola's algorithm,' he demanded.

Walker leapt to his feet. 'Never heard of it,' he replied as he backed up.

'What were you doing on the _Lemurian Star_?' asked Dean.

'Throwing up,' Walker responded, 'I get seasick.' He backed up into the short ledge that surrounded the top of the building. Dean grabbed him by his lapels and held him off balance. Walker smirked. 'It this little display meant to insinuate that you're going to throw me off the roof?' he said smugly. 'Because, let's face it, that's not your style, Winchester.'

Dean smirked back. 'I guess you don't know me that well,' he said, and placed a kick square in his chest. He heard Walker's screaming fade with the distance.

'Ooh, what about that girl from Accounting,' said Zhanna. 'Laura, Lily…'

'Lilith,' said Dean. 'Owns a couple Rottweilers, right?'

'Yeah, she's cute.'

'Hm,' said Dean. Lilith was… aggressive, when it came to flirting. 'I'm not ready for that.'

Zhanna's mouth twisted up in annoyance as the screams of Gordon Walker could again be heard, and were getting louder. Rob, in an amazing flying suit equipped with wings, rose up into view and dropped Walker behind Dean. As he landed, his wings folded up into a pack strapped to his back; this, and the goggles that he wore, made up the Falcon suit.

Dean and Zhanna once more advanced on Walker, who was now more than ready to talk.

'Zola's algorithm is a program,' he panted desperately, 'for choosing Insight's targets.'

'What targets?' snapped Dean.

'You,' said Walker as he finally caught his breath. 'A TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City, Garth Fitzgerald, Jimmy Novak, anyone who is a threat to HYDRA. Now, or in the future.'

'The future?' said Dean. 'How could it know that?'

Walker chuckled. 'How could it not?' he spat, finally finding his courage. 'The 21st century is a digital book.' He stood up. 'Zola taught HYDRA how to read it.' He looked at their uncomprehending faces. 'Your bank records,' he continued, 'medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your dumb SAT scores! Zola's algorithm evaluates people's past to predict their future.'

'What then?' asked Dean.'

'Oh gosh, Pierce is going to kill me,' said Walker to himself.

'What then?!' demanded Dean, ready to tear the man apart.

Walker looked at Dean and seemed to resign himself to his fate. 'Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list… a few million at a time.'

Dean didn't know if he could be more horrified.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 _To be continued…_

Please let me know what I can improve on or if I made a mistake. I have already fixed a few errors in the previous chapters. If you liked something particular, let me know. By the way, I am thinking of switching Dean's and Sam's heights so that Dean is the taller one, due to the serum.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Dean, Zhanna, Rob, and Walker were piled in Rob's car, headed down the freeway. It was still early in the day as they headed to SHIELD.

'HYDRA doesn't like leaks,' Walker informed them from the backseat.

'Then why don't you try sticking a cork in it?' Rob snapped into his review mirror. After what he learnt, he was fed up with Walker's very existence.

Zhanna leaned forward in her seat to speak to Dean. 'Insight is launching in 16 hours. We're cutting it a little close here,' she said.

'I know,' said Dean from the front seat, clearly tense. 'We'll use him to bypass the DNA scanners and access the helicarriers directly.'

'What?!' said Walker, leaning forward. 'Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible, idea.'

He was barely finished speaking when a thud sounded on the roof. Everyone looked up. A hand crashed through the backseat window, seizing a screaming Walker. It dragged him bodily out the window and threw him into the path of a semi. Zhanna heard a powerful gun cock, and she leapt into the front seat just as a bullet imbedded the spot she had just vacated. More shots were fired. Dean pulled up the emergency brake, causing the car to screech to a halt. A man flew off the roof. It was the assassin, the Winter Soldier.

He recovered from his flight beautifully. He gripped the tarmac with the fingers of his metal arm, screeching and sliding to a halt as sparks flew. Five small grooves were left in the middle of the lane. He stood up slowly. He wore a black fingerless glove on his metal hand, a black mask on the bottom half of his face, and sturdy goggles. Rob didn't move the car; he just stared. Zhanna didn't move off Dean's lap and he didn't make her. The Winter Soldier seemed to be waiting for something.

The "something" crashed into them. A large, armored jeep from SHIELD crunched their backend, spurring them forward against their will. Rob did his best to steer as they quickly approached the assassin. Just before the impact, the Soldier jumped, turned in the air, and gripped the lip where the windshield meets the roof. He crashed into the hood. Rob tried slamming on the brakes, but all it did was produce sparks. Up on the roof, the Soldier got up on his knees and, using his metal arm, crashed through the windshield and ripped the steering wheel from its place. Rob's face of surprise was absolutely priceless.

Zhanna, meanwhile, had finally recovered her gun from where it had fallen from her jacket and fired into the roof. She hit nothing, and the Winter Soldier stood and leapt onto the hood of the jeep. Rob switched tactics and punched the gas, but the jeep followed close behind. It rammed into them. Rob's car, bereft of its steering wheel, turned unguided towards the concrete divider and clipped it with the front tire; that caused the car to turn and rise up on its two passenger side tires, and one more ram from the jeep made it airborne. Dean snagged Rob to him, sandwiching Zhanna between them, and, bracing his right side with his shield, shoved and broke off his door, sending them falling to the road. The car crashed. The door-turned-sled slid several dozen feet, losing Rob on the way. Rob was fine, but the others were not so lucky. As Dean stood he saw that the jeep had pulled in front of them and parked, and that the Winter Soldier had a grenade launcher pointed at them. He shoved Zhanna out of the way, and she took off for the cover of their crashed car. Dean held up his shield, but the blast still sent him flying off the overpass and into the window of a passing bus below. The bus driver turned at the sound, and ran into a tow truck, tipping over his vehicle. Dean had dropped his shield.

Back on the overpass, Zhanna and Rob were dodging bullets from the STRIKE crew. Rob ducked behind a car and waited for his chance to get to his car, where his suit was. Zhanna gave him his chance by standing and firing at the crew. The Soldier fired a grenade at her, and she jumped over the divider and into the oncoming traffic. Luckily traffic was slower because of the shooting, and she made it to the ledge without getting hit. The Soldier fired another grenade and she flipped over the edge, escaping it. She pulled out a grappling hook and shot it into the underside of the overpass, swinging to safety. The car that had been hit, however, was not so lucky, and exploded into pieces.

Up on the overpass, the Winter Soldier traded his grenade launcher for a machine gun. The STRIKE crew was there as his support, and it was very clear that he was in charge of the mission. He strode to the edge of the overpass and waited for the blonde to appear. The blonde saw his shadow on the ground however, and saw her chance when he noticed the Captain's shield and the overturned bus. As he went to fire at it, a bullet from Zhanna's gun hit him in the goggles, tossing him back. He landed on his butt, and reaching up yanked off the now-useless goggles, revealing an irked and cold pair of hazel eyes. He pushed back up to his feet, pointed his gun down over the side, and fired mercilessly at the spot Zhanna had just vacated. She fired at him again, but he ducked, and responded by firing at the tow truck she was hiding behind. She took off running, putting space and cars between her and the assassin. He stopped firing.

Turning to his men, he spoke in Russian, 'I have her. Find him.'

With that, he jumped off the overpass, landing on a parked park and caving in the roof. He stalked after her, steps sure and strong. His STRIKE crew pounded repel hooks into a parked and vacated car, and prepared to join the fight on the ground.

In the bus, Dean was just coming around from being unconscious. He saw the last of the people exit the bus via the back door. Suddenly the sound of machine gun fire filled the air, with bullets penetrating the bus. By keeping low, Dean was able to avoid most of the bullets as he ran to the front and leapt out the front windshield, performing a roll and grabbing his shield. He hid behind it as he tried to figure out what to do against the onslaught of bullets from the STRIKE crew.

Back up top, Rob had seen that Cap needed extra help before he could put on his suit. He walked up behind the remaining agent with a knife and quickly put him out of commission. He grabbed the machine gun from the falling agent and shot one of the men attacking Dean. Dean, meanwhile, had figured out that by twitching his shield at the right moment he could deflect the bullets right back at the shooters, and killed the second one. However, the man standing on top of the car with the bigger gun was more difficult. Dean slowly stepped forward, staying in as much of a crouch as he could, until he was able to get on the car's hood and flip up over the man's back. He ended it with a clang of his shield to his head.

Dean stayed crouched behind the car. He looked up at Rob, who had engaged the remaining agent behind a car.

'Go! I got this!' shouted Rob. At that, Dean took off in the direction of the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier was stalking down the street, and blasted a police car that had arrived on the scene with yet another gun. People abandoned their cars and bolted. He was listening for something, for the Black Widow. When he heard indistinct talking, he stopped. Crouching, he pulled a small, silver, spherical bomb out of his black vest and rolled it carefully towards the noise. He couldn't see, but the noise behind the car was playback on a phone from a call already made. The bomb exploded, making someone's next year registration unnecessary. Suddenly Zhanna appeared, leaping over a car and kicking the Soldier in the head. He didn't even fall, but she wrapped her legs around his shoulders and pulled out a wire. He stuck his hand in the way before she could wrap it around his neck, but still she pulled. He slammed her back against a car, grabbed her back with his metal arm, and flipped her off, sending her flying. He pulled up his gun to shoot her, but Zhanna quickly threw a Black Widow Bite at him; a small electrocution device. It landed on his metal arm, temporarily putting in out of commission and allowing her to get away. The assassin pulled it off, rotated his arm back into place, and marched after her once more.

Zhanna ran down the street, shouting at people to get away, her ponytail hitting her cheek whenever she checked behind her. Suddenly, she felt a bullet pierce her left shoulder. She went down. Backing up against a nearby car she turned, looking for the shooter. She didn't see him. It was almost quiet. Then a loud noise attracted her attention, and spinning around she saw that the Winter Soldier had jumped up on a car, with her in his sights. She ducked, but his attention was drawn by Dean, coming at him full throttle from the right. He turned and threw a punch at Dean with his metal arm. It hit his shield, and vibranium on vibranium made a stalemate, so he kicked Dean in the stomach, sending the Captain to the ground and himself to his back on the roof.

Dean grabbed his shield and "turtled" behind it as the Soldier shot at him. The Soldier tossed aside the big gun as he rolled to the ground and pulled out something he could hold with one hand. Dean had somersaulted to his feet and now raced around the car to give himself some cover while the assassin fired at him. He used his hand to help him leap over the roof of the car and kick the gun away. He had to quickly hold up his shield when the Soldier pulled out another smaller gun. The man was a walking arsenal. Dean ran around him and knocked the gun out of his hand. He threw a punch, but the assassin ducked it. Dean tried to hit him with his shield by bringing it across his body, but the Soldier caught it, and punched Dean in the stomach with his other hand. He then griped the shield with both hands and spun it, causing Dean to do a stationary flip and let go of the shield.

Dean landed and backed up. He threw several punches which the Soldier blocked with the shield. Then the Soldier banged him with the front of the shield, sending him backwards. Dean recovered with a backwards somersault, and pausing for just a moment, met the Soldier's ready eyes. Dean had never been so evenly matched before. He bared his teeth and charged. The Soldier threw the shield at him with full strength, and Dean veered easily off to the side and saw it imbed in the back of a van. The Soldier pulled a knife out of his pants and gave it an expert flip.

The next punches, ducks, and attempted stabs and blocks were so fast Dean barely thought about his moves. He finally got enough space to kick the Soldier in the stomach and send him flying back into a van, causing him to drop his knife. With a running start, he kicked him again, then threw a punch. The Soldier blocked it, but Dean took advantage of the open position and, grabbing the Soldier, flipped him. The Soldier recovered and responded by seizing Dean by his throat with his metal arm, and threw him over a car. Dean had just enough time to gain his bearings before rolling out of the way to avoid the metal fist that plowed into the tarmac, cracking the road.

Again they threw and blocked punches, but the Soldier landed one that knocked Dean backwards into a van. Using Dean's momentary disorientation, the Soldier pulled out a second knife. Dean blocked the stab to his face by grabbing the Soldier's arm and making the knife pierce the van. The Soldier used the strength of his left arm to slice the van as he pushed Dean to the end. Dean ducked under the Soldier's arms, grabbed him around the middle from behind, and flipped him over his shoulders. He grabbed his shield from the van while the Soldier stood back up.

The Soldier swung at him with his metal arm and tried to stab him with the knife in his right. Dean ducked the punch and blocked the knife with his shield. He ducked another punch and came up behind the soldier, jamming his shield between the plates of the Soldier's metal arm. Then yanking out his shield, he quickly brought it under the Soldier's trapped arm and hit him in the face. That dazed the Soldier for a few seconds and Dean used them to spin for a better stance, and then braced the Soldier by his mask and flipped him backwards over his shoulders. The Soldier hit the ground and his mask came off. He rolled and got to his feet, his back to Dean as he gained his bearings. Dean took advantage of the respite to rest, and waited with intense curiosity to see the face of his opponent. The Winter Soldier turned his head around, glaring at him with cold eyes. Dean recognized him.

He straightened. His defensive stance melted away. He stared in disbelief and confusion, his mouth agape. Dean recognized those hazel eyes, that face, that chocolate-coloured hair. 'Sammy?' he said in confusion.

'Who the heck is Sammy?' asked the Soldier, turning fully around. Dean knew that voice. The Winter Soldier aimed a gun that he pulled from somewhere on his person at Dean. Before he could fire it though, Rob came from the air in his Falcon suit and double kicked him in the head, sending him rolling across the pavement. Rob landed and put away his wings, getting ready for what came next.

The Winter Soldier got to his feet and looked at Dean for a moment, his eyes cutting down and right for just a second before he raised the gun again, ready to fire. Dean hadn't moved. His defensives were down, his shield at his side, and he just stared. Just then a loud discharge was heard, and the Winter Soldier – Dean's little brother – ducked away, recognizing the noise. Zhanna had recovered the missile-like gun and had fired at the Soldier. It struck a nearby car. Dean had ducked at the noise as the bullet flew over his shoulder, and now he turned to see who had fired the weapon, and seeing Zhanna, whipped his head back around. But the spot where his brother had been was now vacant, filled with nothing but smoke from the smoldering car. The Winter Soldier had disappeared.

Sirens filled the air as STRIKE jeeps rushed to the scene. Agents in tactical gear poured out of the vehicles and descended on them with weapons drawn.

'Drop the shield, Cap! Get down on your knees!' shouted Trenton. 'Get on your knees!'

Dean dropped his shield and held up his hands. The agents were shouting at them, but he seemed to hear them through a filter. He stood there in shock, despite Trenton's shouting to get on his knees, which he felt kicked when he didn't comply. An agent held a gun to his head, ready to shoot him execution style, but Trenton noticed a helicopter with the Channel 6 logo, and told him firmly not to kill him here. Dean, Rob, and Zhanna were handcuffed and put into the back of a STRIKE van and driven out of sight.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As they rode in the back of the van, Dean slowly came out of his shock. He still looked stunned, and Rob wondered what he was thinking. Rob knew about Sam – everybody who knew Captain Winchester did – and if the Winter Soldier were truly his brother back from the dead… Rob didn't know how he would react if Caleb were to show up, much less as a master assassin.

'It was him,' Dean said when Rob expressed doubt. 'He looked right at me.' Dean was silent for a second. 'He didn't even know me.'

'How is that even possible?' said Rob. 'It was 70 years ago.'

'Zola,' said Dean with a hint of anger. 'Sam's unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did must have helped Sam survive the fall. HYDRA must have gone back for him and…' Dean trailed off, unwilling to continue.

'That wasn't your fault, Dean,' said Zhanna with some exasperation. Rob shot her a reproachful look for her tone.

Dean didn't heed her. 'Even when I had nothing, I had Sam,' he said quietly.

Rob noticed that Zhanna had leaned back and closed her eyes. Her bullet wound was still bleeding, and though it wasn't fast, it had been unstaunched for 30 minutes. He turned to the two agents sitting in the van with them; they were both wearing large helmets. 'Hey, can we have a rag or something? She's lost too much blood,' he said.

One of the agents whipped out an electrocution stick. Rob stiffened and Dean glared. But the agent surprised them by plunging it into the side of the other agent. The agent gasped and gurgled before passing out. The prisoners stared.

The agent set down the stick and pulled off the helmet, revealing Agent Jody Mills. 'Agh,' she said, 'that thing was squeezing my brain.' She looked from Rob to Dean. 'Who's this?'

'Uh, Jody, this is Rob Wilson, 58th Pararescue, part of EXO-7 Falcon. My friend,' answered Dean as he recovered from his surprise. 'Rob, this is Agent Jody Mills, Fury's right-hand man.' Rob held up a hand in greeting.

'Ok. Well then,' said Jody, 'let's get out of here.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Trenton and his crew reached some abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, they stopped and hopped out of their vehicles. Trenton ordered three of his men to start digging three holes, and then went around the back of the van with the prisoners and pulled his gun with the rest of his crew. One of the crew opened the doors, but all they saw inside were one knocked out agent and a giant hole in the bottom of the van. Their prisoners had escaped.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Agent Mills pulled open the door of an inconspicuous van to let out the three escapees. They were in front of what looked like an abandoned factory. Mills led them inside and was met by a doctor there to take Zhanna and bandaged her. But before he could take her, Agent Mills said that there was someone she would want to see. She pulled aside a curtain to reveal a hospital bed and some IVs, with Director Nick Fury lying in the bed, looking remarkably well for a dead man. Raising his head, he greeted them with: 'Well, it's about time.'

The doctor decided to bandaged Zhanna in Fury's room, and while he cleaned her up Fury listed his injuries in a tired voice.

'Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collar bone, perforated liver, and a colossal headache.'

'Don't forget your collapsed lung,' the doctor said quietly.

'Let's not forget that,' Fury quipped. 'Otherwise, I'm good.'

'They cut you open,' Zhanna protested; 'your heart stopped.'

'Tetrodotoxin B,' Fury explained. 'Slows the heartrate to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress; didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it.'

Dean, who had been watching Fury with a stern expression, spoke up. 'Why all the secrecy?' he demanded lowly. 'Why not just tell us?'

Mills answered. 'Any attempt on the Director's life had to look successful.'

'Can't kill you if you're already dead,' said Fury. 'Besides, I didn't know whom to trust.'

Dean nodded and then left the room. He wasn't too surprised about the Director being alive; if there was one thing he had learnt, it was that Fury _always_ had a trick up his sleeve. Dean left because he needed a minute alone; he needed to process that his dead little brother was alive, and not only alive, but working for HYDRA with no memory. He walked to the end of the hall and stopped in front of a dirty window. Rubbing his hands down his face, he stared out at the trees. His brother had been preserved somehow, much like Dean had been. If Dean had to guess, Sam looked about 27 or 28 years-old; his birthday was in May. Sam had been 25 when he had fallen from the train, so he had been out at some time. It suddenly occurred to Dean that HYDRA had been keeping his brother somewhere, and that since his brother was in the city then HYDRA must have a secret base in D.C.; they couldn't store him at SHIELD. Dean's little brother was out there, right now, with HYDRA.

'Where are you, Sammy?' he wondered quietly to himself.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As night fell, in the middle of the city in a foreclosed bank, HYDRA regrouped within the vaults. Sam sat shirtless in a black dentist-like chair with a strange circular device behind it, and a clinician worked on his metal arm; around them were screens on stands that showed data on the Soldier, which another doctor monitored. STRIKE agents stood guard with machine guns.

Sam had a pensive look on his face; he stared without focusing on the room. Suddenly a memory of an ugly man with round glasses flashed in his mind.

'Sergeant Winchester,' said the man with malicious glee. Sam sat forward in his chair quickly, a confused and alarmed expression on his face. He saw a train in snow-covered mountains, and the man he had fought dressed in a uniform reaching for him and calling for him desperately.

'Sam! No!'

He saw mountains and trees and snow spin before his eyes. Men in old uniforms walked up to him as he looked up. He saw the bloodied stump of his left arm as he was dragged through the snow. He heard the voice of the ugly man say, 'The procedure has already started,' as men in white doctor's coats advanced on him with surgical instruments as he lay on a table. He saw a doctor used a whirring instrument to cut or drill at the stump of his arm, and he looked with growing alarm at the doctor in real life who worked on his arm. More images flashed through his mind: as he lay on the same table, he held up his arms and saw that one of them was now metal, and obeyed him like a regular arm. A doctor or scientist nearby turned when he saw him wake, and as the man bent down to examine the new arm, Sam seized him by his throat. Another doctor quickly injected him with a sedative, but not before he heard the ugly man say, 'You are to be the new fist of HYDRA.'

Then the man said, 'Put him on ice,' and Sam saw his reflection in a small round window in a metal box. He put his hands to the door but was thrust into unconsciousness as ice surrounded him, freezing him.

The memories stopped. Sam, in alarm and anger, lashed out at the doctor with his arm, sending the man flying across the room. The agents immediately turned and leveled their guns at him, but he reacted no more, just sat staring into space.

However, the incident was enough to call in the leader of HYDRA, and Mr. Pierce walked through the bar doors to the vault. 'Sir. He-he's unstable,' a doctor stammered, 'erratic.'

Pierce paid him no mind and continued through the last door; Trenton and the doctors followed behind. He stood before the Soldier who was leaning forward in his chair and staring straight ahead, unaware of what was around him.

'Mission report,' he commanded. He received no answer; the Soldier did not appear to have heard him. 'Mission report, now,' he tried again. Again, nothing. Placing his hands on his knees, he bent forward and viciously backhanded Sam across the face. Sam grunted, but snapped out of his reverie.

He gave his head a small shake to dislodge brown bangs from his eyes. Then turning his head back to Pierce, Sam looked up and in a quiet voice asked a question. 'The man on the bridge, who was he?'

Pierce took just a moment to think of a suitable answer. 'You met him earlier this week on another assignment.'

Sam eyes looked to the right. 'I knew him,' he said softly. It was amazing that a man who was so dangerous and skilled could look so innocent and young.

Pierce, unfazed, pulled over a stool and sat in front of Sam. Sam tilted his head down a bit, looking a little lost, but looked up once Pierce started talking.

'Your work has a been gift to mankind,' Pierce said. 'You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time.' Sam's eyes turned cold; he knew distracting inculcation when he heard it. Pierce continued. 'Society's at a tipping point between order and chaos; tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push. But if you don't do your part, I can't do mine. And HYRDA can't give the world the freedom it deserves.'

Sam's face had softened when his orders were mentioned; he kept thinking about the man. He didn't want to kill him, and he hoped, somewhere deep in his heart, that Pierce would change his mind. 'But I knew him,' he insisted softly, not looking at the boss. He smiled a sad, close-mouthed smile; his eyes were soft, and he looked more like a sad puppy than an assassin. He hoped he wouldn't be in too much trouble.

Pierce pursed his lips and stood, but did not seem overly concerned. 'Prep him,' he told the doctor.

'He's been out of cyro freeze too long,' protested the nervous doctor.

'Then wipe him, and start over,' said Pierce, looking at Sam with hard eyes. Sam looked down, slight sadness and fear appearing on his face as the doctors walked towards him. He knew what a wipe was, and it hurt.

The doctors pushed him to lean back in the chair, and he went pliantly. Sam steeled himself for what was to come. He opened his mouth and a doctor put a mouth guard in it. A machine whirred to life, and when thick metal clamps closed over Sam's arms he tensed and started to breath quickly. The circular device behind the chair turned to place large, curved, metal plates around Sam's head. Sam whimpered just before they settled into place. Then the machine crackled and with surging electrical currents started to wipe his mind. The pain was excruciating, and he screamed around the guard. Pierce and Trenton left the room, leaving the others to watch heartlessly as Sam continued to scream through his memory wipe.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Back at the temporary SHIELD base, the team had cleaned up and rested and were now sitting around a table to make a plan. Fury was sitting there when they arrived, looking at a picture of Alexander Pierce.

'This man declined the Noble Peace Prize,' Fury told them. 'He said that peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility.' He tossed the picture to the table and leaned forward. 'See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues.'

'We have to stop that launch,' said Zhanna before Dean could voice his thoughts on Fury's last statement.

'I don't think the Council is accepting my calls anymore,' Fury quipped as he opened a suitcase to show three large technological chips.

'What are those?' asked Rob. He had picked up on Dean's dislike of Fury and had a note of caution in his tone.

Agent Mills answered. 'Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they will triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized.'

'We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own,' said Fury.

'One or two won't cut it,' continued Agent Mills, 'we need to link all three carriers for this to work. If even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are going to die.'

'We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA,' Fury stated. 'We have to get past them, insert our server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what's left –'

'We're not salvaging anything,' Dean cut in harshly. 'We're not just taking down the carriers, we're taking down SHIELD.'

'SHIELD had nothing to do with this!' protested Fury.

'This is my mission, this is how it ends,' Dean said in a commanding voice. He was angry. 'SHIELD has been compromised; we have to take down the whole thing to completely eradicate HYDRA from it. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.' Rob shot a sidelong glance at Dean and then at Fury, watching the battle of two very stubborn and powerful wills.

'Why do you think we're sitting in this cave? I noticed,' said Fury.

'How many paid the price before you did?' said Dean with tight emotion in his eyes.

Fury paused. 'Look, I didn't know about your brother.'

'If you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too?' Dean looked Fury firmly in the eyes. 'It all goes.'

'He's right,' Mills said to Fury quietly. Fury looked at Mills, then at Zhanna, who merely leaned back in her chair, and then lastly at Wilson.

'Don't look at me,' said Rob. 'I do what he does, just slower.'

'Well,' said Fury reluctantly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, disappointed at the lack of support. But he knew when to admit defeat, and he looked up at Dean. 'It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Bright and early the next morning, Dean stood on a bridge that spanned between two points of the factory. He was thinking about Sam, his thoughts reaching into the past.

It had been one of the times that his leg injury was acting up; it was something that happened from time to time, but this time it was right after Dean's first rejection from a girl when he asked her to go steady with him. She had told him that even though he was handsome, she didn't want to date a cripple. Dean took it hard.

He had lain on the sofa in pain as his bones ached and his muscles curled and tightened. His brother brought him a rubber hot water bottle wrapped in a dish towel and placed it on his leg. Sam had skipped school that day to take care of Dean; Sam must have been 16 at the time. His teachers always understood, and he had a classmate who was designated to bring him notes and assignments on days like this. Usually Dean didn't mind his brother's help, but today he felt like a useless weakling.

'I don't need your help, Sam,' he groused even as he grit his teeth against a sudden surge of pain.

'Yes you do,' Sam said softly, not at all put off by his brother's sour attitude.

Dean sighed as the heat started to work its magic. He felt Sam place the heel of his hand on a spot the hot water bottle didn't cover and massage the cramping muscles.

'I'm a weakling,' Dean stated disparagingly.

'Dean, you're not strong; that doesn't make you worthless,' said Sam.

'How? Here I am on the sofa, in pain, keeping you from school, with no hope that it will ever change. I'm worthless,' Dean complained.

There was a moment of silence as Sam repositioned the water bottle. 'Dean?' he asked gently, 'Where is this coming from?'

Hang his brother for knowing him so well. Dean inwardly grumbled but decided to confess anyway. 'Carmen,' he said bitingly. 'She told me she didn't want to date a cripple.'

'But you two went out three times,' Sam stated in confusion.

'I asked her to go steady with me,' Dean admitted with an edge to his tone. 'She said no. She also said that I was handsome but didn't want anything more than a few causal dates, all because I'm a cripple.'

'She's a jerk, Dean,' said his brother. 'But I'm sorry. I know you liked her.'

'That's not the point, Sam,' Dean replied as he sat up a little on the pillow. 'She's right. I can't take her dancing, I can't go on long walks, I can't defend her. I take up too much of _your_ time. You're skipping school today because of me, you work to help support me. Don't think I don't know why you took that job at the grocery store,' Dean chided when Sam looked up in protest, 'My pain medicines are expensive, and I'm always getting sick. You often tell your friends you can't go out because you don't want me to feel left out. I know you love dancing. You should be able to go with your friends, Sam. Instead you're stuck taking care of me.' Dean sighed angrily as he flopped his head back onto the pillow. His muscles were cramping less now, even though his bones still ached.

It was silent for a moment. 'Dean,' said Sam. Dean lifted his head again to look at his brother. He sat at the end by Dean's feet, in his white button-up and suspenders, looking at him with a soft but sure expression. 'I stay with you because I want to. Sure, sometimes I wish I could go dancing more, but I still get to go. You took care of me when I was little, and you never complained. You sacrificed so much for me, and I would do the same for you. I like to be needed; it's ok. I like to help. You're my big brother, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you.' He looked Dean in the eye. 'I'm with you till the end of the line,' he said seriously.

Dean stared for a moment, then smiled with a slight huff. Leave it to Sam to make him feel all warm inside. 'Thanks, little brother,' he said as he leaned his head back, trying to act not too affected.

Sam did not forget that conversation; for weeks afterward he went out of his way to make Dean feel special. Dean had caught on when Sam brought him home a slice of pie for the second time in two weeks.

Dean was pulled out of his memories when he heard Rob walking towards him.

'He's gonna be there, you know?' said Rob.

'I know,' Dean replied, his voice a little gruff.

'The guy he used to be, and the guy he is now… I don't think he's the kind you save, he's the kind you stop,' Rob told him bluntly.

Dean shook his head a little. 'I don't know if I can do that.'

'He might not give you a choice,' Rob returned, 'he doesn't know you.'

Dean turned to look at him. 'He might.' His voice then became more commanding. 'Gear up. It's time.' He turned and headed down the bridge.

Rob raised his eyebrows. 'You gonna wear that?' he asked, referring to Dean's street clothes.

'No,' Dean replied over his shoulder. 'If you're going to fight a war, you have to wear a uniform.'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 _To be continued..._

One more chapter and then I'm off script! Yay! Let me know if you could follow the fight scene; the next chapter is mostly fighting, and I want to get it right. They are difficult and time-consuming to write, so I would really appreciate feedback.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The ball was rolling. Agent Mills led Rob and Dean in through the back doors of the Triskelion. Rob wore his Falcon gear, and Dean wore his old uniform – the one from 1945 that was in the Smithsonian; he hoped the security guard wouldn't be in too much trouble. Meanwhile, Secretary Pierce greeted the four members of the World Security Council who had flown in to witness the launching of the helicarriers. Some barbs were thrown about SHEILD's inability to control Captain America, but Pierce professionally brushed them off. The members were presented with special pins to give them unrestricted access to the building, and they made their way to the top floor where the hologram meetings were held, since its two glass walls afforded the best view.

Down in the radio control room, two men chatted until a loud whine of feedback filled their ears. One of them went to check it out, and opened the door to leave. He went no farther, as he was met by Falcon's handgun and Mills's concealed carry. The man put his hands up. Dean stepped forward.

'Excuse us,' he said, tongue in cheek. The nervous man stepped aside.

Back in the conference room, all members now held a glass of champagne. 'I know the road hasn't exactly been smooth, and some of you would have gladly kicked me out of the car along the way,' said Pierce. He turned to look at the screen behind him that showed information on the helicarriers. 'Finally, we're here. And the world should be grateful.' They all raised their glasses in toast.

'Attention all SHIELD agents,' said a voice over the intercom, 'this is Dean Winchester.' The stillness that fell over the Triskelion could be felt. 'You've heard a lot of negative things about me over the last couple days, but I'm here to tell you the truth: SHIELD has been overtaken by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The Insight and STRIKE crews are HYDRA as well. They almost have what they want: absolute control. If you launch those helicarriers today, millions will be wiped off the map. I can't let that happen. The price of freedom has always been high, but it's a price I'm willing to pay. And I bet I'm not the only one.'

Dean leaned away from the intercom microphone and glanced at Rob's smirking face.

'Did you rehearse that? Or was that right off the cuff?'

In the conference room, all council members fixed Pierce with a glare. 'You smug ball of slime,' said the bald man. The members turned towards the men in tactical vests who had just entered.

'Arrest him,' insisted the man with a beard. The leader pulled out a handgun and pointed it at the man, whose eyes went wide. It was the STRIKE team.

'Guess I've got the floor,' Pierce said casually.

Down in the control room, things went nervously silent as Trenton strode into the room.

'Preempt the launch sequence,' he said to the young man in charge of it. 'Send those carriers up now.' The young Asian opened and closed his mouth several times and looked back and forth nervously, but did nothing. 'Is there a problem?' Trenton asked dangerously. The young man – Kevin Tran, Cassie was fairly certain that was his name – shook his head, but he did nothing to carry out the command. Everyone was watching him, and the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. 'Is there a problem!' shouted Trenton, shocking the tech into action.

'Sorry, sir,' he said nervously. He wet his lips and swallowed. 'I'm not going to launch those ships.' He breathed deeply for courage. 'Captain's orders.'

A gun cocked behind his head. 'Move away from your station,' ordered Trenton. Cassie pulled out her gun whip-fast and aimed at Trenton, and a shoot-out erupted between the techs and the STRIKE team members. In the mêlée Trenton was able to type in the launch sequence and make his escape, and outside, the water started to tremble.

The massive doors that housed the helicarriers just beneath the surface of the Potomac River rose and slid back, sending the water skittering away in a hundred ripples. Underneath in the station, a man ran forward hollering for the bay doors to close, but he and any who scrambled to obey his orders were shot mercilessly by the STRIKE team.

'They're initiating launch,' Agent Mills informed the boys through the mic. She stayed in the room they had taken over and monitored the helicarriers through the computer, though she had no shut-down power.

As the three helicarriers rose into the air, Dean and Rob ran down the airstrip.

'Hey Cap,' shouted Rob, 'How do we know the good guys from the bad guys?'

'If they're shooting at you, they're bad,' quipped Dean.

'Sounds simple enough,' said Rob and he activated his Falcon wings and took off for the first helicarrier; Dean leapt off the airstrip and landed in a roll on one of the helicarriers. He was instantly met with gunfire from the STRIKE members that were still on it, and he used the pallets of boxes and gear to hide himself. He met one guy and, punching him in the face, stole his grenade. He shoved the guy aside, yanked out the pin, and threw the grenade at the three shooters behind him.

Up in the sky, Falcon went to land on the helicarrier only to be met with cannon fire. He zoomed upward and performed a series of flips and twirls to dodge the projectiles. 'Hey Cap,' he said into his intercom, 'I found those bad guys you were talking about.'

'You ok?' asked Dean, checking to see if the shooters were dead.

A few maneuvers later and Rob answered his question: 'Not dead yet.'

Up in the conference room, the council members watched the helicarriers rise in stiff silence. The only one who was at ease was Pierce.

'Let me ask you a question,' said the despicable man, 'if Pakistan marched into Mumbai tomorrow, and you knew they were going to drag your daughters into a soccer stadium for execution, and you knew you could stop it with the flick of a switch,' he handed the bearded councilman a glass of champagne from the table, and the man stiffly took it, 'would you? Wouldn't you all?'

The man glared at him with hard eyes. 'Not if it were your switch,' he spat, and threw the champagne glass across the room. Pierce grinned, somewhat disappointed but not surprised, and held out a hand to a STRIKE member. The man placed a gun in his hand and Pierce pointed it at the councilman. And that's when things changed.

The councilwoman in a royal blue dress suit kicked the man out of the way. She grabbed Pierce's wrist – freeing the gun from him – and quickly put all the STRIKE members in the room out of commission. Pierce found himself looking at the barrel when he got up off the ground. This woman shouldn't be capable of this.

The woman pressed something on her temple. 'I'm sorry,' she said, her voice sounding distorted. She pulled holographic mesh off her face and a wig from her head, revealing blonde hair and a sassy, pouty face. It was Zhanna, the Black Widow. 'Did I step on your moment?'

Mills spoke into her microphone. 'Falcon, status?' The higher the helicarriers went, the closer they were to reaching the point at which all their targets could be locked.

'Engaging,' came the rough answer as Falcon maneuvered in and out of fire. He finally landed, only to be attacked with a plane, causing him to take to the air once more to lose it. On the other helicarrier, Dean had managed to put everyone out of commission and made his way to the control center on the interior.

Back in the conference room, Pierce was held at gunpoint by an Asian councilman, and Zhanna was on the computer typing away. What she did appeared on the glass-like wall behind her.

'What are you doing?' asked the bald councilman.

'She's disabling security protocols and dumping all the secrets onto the internet,' answered Pierce.

'Including HYDRA's,' added Zhanna.

'And SHIELD's,' Pierce was quick to add. 'If you do this, none of your past is going to remain hidden. Are you ready for the world to see you as you really are?'

If he were hoping to change Zhanna's mind, he was too late. She had already considered the ramifications and made her decision. She looked at him coolly. 'Are you?'

On the helicarrier, Dean had made it to the control center. It was not a proper room, more like a rounded case in the middle of the helicarrier that was accessed by metal bridges. He punched the code in to open the case, and quickly replaced one of the targeting blades with the one from Mills. 'Alpha lock,' he said into the mic.

'Falcon, where are you?' said Mills.

'Had to take a detour!' Rob shouted. He was still being chased by that blasted plane. When it shot guided missiles at him, Rob knew he had his chance. The plane didn't follow, and if he could lose the missiles, he could carry on the mission. Lose them he did. By diving under the helicarrier and flying close, he was able to capitalize on the weakness of the missiles: they did not have the fine maneuverability that he had, and they crashed into the underside. 'Whoo!' shouted Rob. 'Oh yeah!' He landed in the control center and hurried for the case. 'Bravo lock,' he announced when he was done.

'Two down, one to go,' Mills informed them.

Down on the airstrip the SHIELD pilots had assembled. 'Ok, men, we're the only air support Captain Winchester's got,' said the leader. Suddenly a missile exploded into a plane, sending men scrambling. Out from the smoke and flames walked the Winter Soldier. Sam. The pilots tried their best to defend themselves and their planes, but they were no match for the experienced assassin. Soon they were all dead, and the Soldier climbed into a plane and took off for the last helicarrier.

'Disabling the encryption is an executive order,' said Pierce as he watched the screen. 'It takes two Alpha level members.'

Zhanna gave him her fakest sweet smile. 'Don't worry. Company's coming.'

As if on cue, a helicopter came into view and landed on a pad out the window. Out climbed a man in a black leather trench coat. He soon entered the room: Nick Fury in all his intimidating glory. Pierce was nodding his head, expression wavering between shock and unsurprise. 'Did you get my flowers?' he said. Fury's expression of complete un-amusement and quiet anger did not change. 'I'm glad you're here, Nick,' Pierce continued.

'Really?' Fury walked up to the man. 'Because I thought _you_ had me killed.'

'You know how the game works,' Pierce shot back.

'So why make me head of SHIELD?'

'Because you were the best,' Pierce replied without missing a beat, 'and the most ruthless person I'd ever met.'

'I did what I did to protect people,' replied Fury, anger creeping into his tone.

'Our enemies are your enemies, Nick: disorder, war,' said Pierce. 'It's only a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? A holding action, Nick, a band-aid. You know where I learnt that: Bogota. You didn't ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing twenty million. It's the next step, Nick. If you have the courage to take it.'

'No, I have the courage not to,' said Fury without a moment's hesitation. He took Pierce by the elbow and turned him to face the computer screen. The computer announced that the retinal scanner was ready and Zhanna stepped away from the keyboard to hold a gun at Pierce's head.

'You don't think we've wiped your clearance from the system?' Pierce scoffed at Fury.

'I know you erased my password,' Fury answered him calmly. 'Probably deleted my retinal scan.' Fury leaned closer, suddenly threatening. 'But if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,' he said, lifting his eyepatch, 'you need to keep both eyes open.' The computer accepted both scans – one from Fury's blind eye – and announced that the safeguards were down.

Back on the helicarrier Dean had made his way back to the top and was dodging bullets. 'Hey, Rob!' he yelled, 'Gonna need a ride!'

'Roger. Let me know when you're ready,' said Rob.

Dean leapt of the helicarrier, freefalling in the air. 'Ready!'

The Falcon zoomed towards Dean, grabbed his arm and took off towards the final helicarrier with a yell. Once they landed, they saw that there were no agents on the ship.

'You know, man, you're a lot heavier than you look,' said Rob.

Dean chuckled. 'You sound like my brother.' Suddenly Dean was kicked off the helicarrier and onto a wing by the Winter Soldier; he had been hiding.

'Dean!' shouted Rob in alarm and made to go after him but was grabbed by the Soldier and flung backwards. Rob turned and fired both his guns at him, but firing with two weapons reduces accuracy and the Soldier easily flipped to cover. Rob took off in the air again to go to Dean, when he felt a tug at his wing. He was pulled back to the carrier, a grappling hook in his wing. The Soldier gave a mighty pull and broke off the wing. Rob jumped to his feet, but was met with a boot to the chest, sending him flying over the edge. He detached the remaining wing and deployed a parachute, landing safely, albeit roughly, on the SHIELD base. He quickly stood and shouted into his mic. 'Cap! Cap, come in! You ok?'

'Yeah,' grunted Dean as he pulled himself up onto the helicarrier. 'Where are you?'

'I'm grounded,' Rob said, regret in his voice. 'The suit's down. Sorry, Cap.'

'Don't worry about it,' said Dean. 'I got this.'

SHIELD was in an evacuation, agents and workers running for safety, trying their best to not panic. Rob was on the airstrip when he got a message from Mills.

'Falcon, Trenton is headed for the council,' she said, observing the security cameras.

'I'm on it,' he answered.

Back up on the helicarrier, Dean had made it to the control center, but as he jogged across the bridge he had to come to a stop. At the end of the bridge stood Sam; quiet, determined, and with no recognition in his eyes.

'People are going to die, Sam,' he said, proud that his voice didn't waver. 'I can't let that happen.' He stared at Sam, willing him to recognize him, but he knew full well it wouldn't be that easy. 'Please don't make me do this,' he begged, and this time his voice did waver a little. Sam simply stared, waiting for Dean to make the first move. Dean grit his teeth and threw his shield, starting the battle.

Sam blocked it with his arm and pulled out a gun, which started a block and fire exchange between the two brothers. Sam managed to graze Dean's side with a bullet, and Dean knocked him away and managed to punch in the code to open the case before he was attacked again. They exchanged kicks and punches before Dean managed to plant a foot in Sam's chest to knock him back enough that Dean was able to remove one of the targeting blades. He wasn't able to put in his own before he had to stop a metal fist with his shield. He swung his shield and Sam ducked, then he managed to knock him to the side. Sam turned with a yell and tackled him over the railing. Dean dropped the targeting blade and his shield when he landed on the lower platform. He had no time to pick either up, as Sam was on him in seconds. They fought hand-to-hand until Sam knocked the blade to the bottom of the control room. Dean sent a mighty elbow to his face and leapt after the blade. He could tell his brother felt that hit from the look on his face, but he had no time to feel bad.

The bottom of the control room was made of an extremely strong plexiglass, held up by metal beams that ran along the "floor" at intervals. Dean jumped these as he ran towards the blade. Suddenly he was knocked forward off his feet by his shield, and he barely had time to grab it before he was blocking several bullets. He threw it, but Sam blocked it with his metal arm, sending it flying in an inconvenient direction. Sam pulled out a knife and came at Dean swinging. Dean blocked but still ended up with a stab wound in his right shoulder. His yelled, then head-butted Sam repeatedly with his helmet before he got enough room to shove him away. He didn't have enough room to shove much though, and Sam gripped him with his metal arm and threw him aside. Dean pulled out the knife as Sam dove for the targeting blade. Sam didn't know what the targeting blade was for, but he knew that if Captain America wanted it that badly, he shouldn't have it.

Sam grabbed the targeting blade with his flesh hand, and Dean was on him in a second. He gripped him by the throat and hoisted him into the air, causing a gagging sound to escape Sam. Dean flipped his brother over and had his flesh arm trapped under his own while he used his other hand to push Sam's face away, putting strain on his shoulder.

'Drop it!' he commanded. Sam tried to swing at him. 'Drop it!' _Don't make me do this._ Dean had never purposefully injured his little brother before, but now he pushed with one arm and yanked with the other, cleanly dislocating Sam's right shoulder. Sam cried out in pain, but still he held the blade. Dean switched his tactic, pulling his brother in front of him (chest to back) and falling backwards, Sam landing on top. He wrapped his right arm around Sam's throat and squeezed, shutting off his oxygen. Sam struggled against him, and Dean had to trap the metal arm under his leg to keep his brother there. Sam's struggles slowed, and then stopped all together as he lost consciousness, the blade falling from his fingers. Dean snatched it up and bolted for the ladder to reach the control case.

Back in the conference room, Zhanna smiled as the computer uploaded all of SHIELD's files to the internet. 'Done,' she chirped pleasantly. She checked her phone. 'And it's trending.'

Before anyone could say anything, the councilmembers started yelling in pain as smoke rose from the pins they had been given when arriving at SHIELD. As they collapsed to the ground one by one, Zhanna whipped out her gun and pointed it at Pierce along with Fury, but his voice stopped her from firing.

'Put that down unless you want a hole burnt clear through your clavicle,' he warned, his thumb hovering over a button on his phone. 'It was armed the moment you put it on.'

Zhanna glanced at Fury before setting down her gun. Fury lowered his with an annoyed and frustrated expression. _I can get out of this, if I wait,_ thought Zhanna.

Several floors below, Trenton talked into his mic as he entered a windowed room, headed for the stairwell. A fist coming for his face caused him to turn around. It was Rob, waiting for him behind the door. Rob landed his punch and added a knee to the face before he was blocked and given a punch that sent him to his back.

'This is going to hurt,' Trenton informed him as he took off his tactical vest to give himself greater maneuverability. 'There are no prisoners with HYDRA; just order. And order only comes through pain.' He took a stance and smirked as Rob stood up. 'You ready for yours?'

'Man, just shut up,' Rob replied, and charged him.

From her screen, Agent Mills could see that the guns on the helicarriers had lowered. 'One minute, Cap,' she said urgently. Not a whole lot phased Mills, but this did, and her voice betrayed her worry.

Dean had made it to the bridge and sprinted across it before a bullet pierced his thigh. He cried out and went to his knee, seeing Sam standing below leveling a gun at him; Dean noticed that his right arm was held carefully across his stomach. He was back up again in a second, dodging the second bullet by a hair. Sam lowered the gun and changed his position.

'Thirty seconds, Cap,' Mills's voice sounded in his ear.

He gripped the blade. 'Stand by,' he said and groaned with the effort of staying standing. He was reaching to insert the blade when a gun fired, and Dean collapsed to the ground. He could see Sam looking at him with a dangerous expression on his face, like he knew he had him. Dean looked down and saw blood start to stain his uniform. He had been shot through his middle, below his stomach. _It didn't hit my arteries though_ , thought Dean. Breathing erratically and heavily, he turned and gripped the base of the case, and slowly hauled himself up. He reached up and clicked the blade into place. 'Charlie lock,' he panted.

Agent Mills allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Dean didn't know how close he had cut it; the countdown had been on "one" before the controls were turned over to her. 'Ok, Cap, get out of there,' she said, quickly switching back to "in charge" mode. She set the number of targets to "three" as the helicarriers pointed their cannons at each other.

'Fire now,' Dean said quietly.

'But Dean-' started Mills.

'Do it!' Dean shouted firmly as he braced himself against the pain in his torso. 'Do it now!'

Agent Mills hesitated for only a moment. Then she set the controls to fire, and metal and smoke erupted in the sky. Dean held on to the railing as the helicarrier shuddered violently. But he didn't leave, couldn't. Not without Sam. Pieces of helicarrier started to rain down and he heard a scream. Looking down, he saw his brother trapped on his back underneath a metal beam from the ceiling; the only reason he wasn't dead was that the beams on the floor kept the other beam from landing flush.

Back in the conference room, Pierce watched in anger and disappointment as the helicarriers filled one another with bullets. 'What a waste,' he grumbled.

'Still on the fence about Winchester's chances?' asked Zhanna sassily.

Pierce didn't deign her with an answer. 'Come on, Councilwoman,' he said instead, 'You are going to fly me out of here.' Zhanna reluctantly turned and walked in front of Pierce as he held his thumb over the button.

'You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you,' Fury said bitterly.

'You already did,' Pierce returned cheerfully. 'And you will again when it's useful.'

Zhanna took advantage of his distraction, pulling out a Black Window Bite and activating it on herself. She shook from the electrocution and collapsed to the floor. Pierce, stunned, stared at his phone as it temporarily was deactivated by the shock. Fury took advantage of the second distraction and shot Pierce twice in the chest. He rushed to Zhanna and knelt.

'Romanov,' he said as he shook her. 'Zhanna. Wake up. Zhanna!'

She opened her eyes half way. 'Ow,' she whined. 'Those really do sting.'

Fury helped her up and they made their way to the chopper.

'Hail HYDRA,' Pierce said weakly. Those were his last words. The helicarriers started to fall from the sky. One crashed into the Potomac River and the other began its descent sideways through the air.

At this point, Rob and Trenton had made a mess of the room. Rob threw a punch, which Trenton blocked before throwing one of his own. It knocked Rob's chin back, and Trenton seized Rob by the arms and threw him over a desk. He leapt up onto another desk, standing cockily. 'You're out of your depth, flyboy,' he said. Rob's eyes went wide and he jumped to his feet and started bolting across the room. Trenton whipped around and met a helicarrier as it crashed through the window. He tried to run but was soon buried in rubble. Rob, however, had a chance.

'Please tell me you got that chopper in the air!' he shouted into his mic.

'Rob, where are you?!' It was Romanov.

'41st floor, Northwest corner!'

'We're on it! Stay where you are!' she replied.

'Not an option!'

He continued running towards the end of the room, and at the last few steps the floor started rising up to meet his feet. He jumped through the window, breaking the glass, and fell through the air. Fury saw him and tipped the chopper to the side, catching Rob as he fell. Rob almost fell out the other side but Zhanna caught him and hauled him in as Fury righted the chopper.

'41st floor! 41st!' Rob yelled, pointing.

'It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building,' Fury informed him. Rob looked at Zhanna. She was still in her blue suit, though now she had on a pair of pants under the skirt and her hair was in a ponytail. She talked to Mills through the mic, asking for Dean's location.

Dean was still on the helicarrier, though now he had managed to make it to the bottom of the room. He stumbled towards Sam, who looked at him with wide eyes and continued to struggle uselessly against the beam. Dean pitched to the side as the helicarrier rocked. He noticed Sam's fearful eyes as he made his way closer. It was hard to watch; he had never had his little brother scared of him before. Once he was close enough, Dean grabbed the beam and lifted. He required all his strength to lift it even a little, but it was enough that it freed Sam's metal arm and allowed him to pull himself out. Dean let the beam fall with a thud, and Sam looked at him, confused. He was sure Captain America had been going to kill him.

'You know me,' Dean said as he gained his feet.

'No, I don't,' Sam insisted, sounding tired. He swung at him anyway, and Dean blocked him with his shield, the effort sending both their tired bodies to the ground.

'Sammy,' Dean pleaded, 'you've known me your whole life.' Sam swung at him again, running on adrenalin and confusion. They both fell again. 'Your name is Samuel Henry Winchester,' Dean panted.

'Shut up!' Sam said it like he was scared. Dean could see the war on his face before he was hit again and they both ended up on their knees. Dean yanked off his helmet and dropped it, further confusing his brother.

'I'm not gonna fight you,' Dean said tiredly, and he dropped his recovered shield, letting it fall through a hole in the floor to sink into the Potomac. He looked Sam square in the eyes. 'You're my brother, and my friend.'

Sam stared at him, unable to comprehend what Dean was doing. Dean could see something in his face, and though he wouldn't call it recognition, it was familiarity. For a moment, Dean thought he had gotten through to his brother, but Sam fell back on the only thing he knew and tackled him at a run.

'You're my mission,' he insisted, and landed punch after punch to Dean's face with his metal arm. Dean made no move to fight back. Sam brought his arm back to swing again but stopped, looking at Dean almost as if he were waiting for something.

'Then finish it,' said Dean calmly, 'because I'm with you till the end of the line.'

Sam looked at Dean in horror, but horror at what he himself was doing. It wasn't recognition, but it was a change. He slowly lowered his arm, panting. He couldn't fight this man, this man who wouldn't fight back, this man who saved him from the beam, this man who would rather die than kill him first. Sam looked like he might cry. Suddenly the ground fell from beneath the two brothers, knocked away by falling debris. Sam managed to hang onto a beam with his metal arm, but Dean was not so lucky. He lost consciousness during his fall and sank into the river. He didn't feel the hand that grabbed his uniform. He didn't see the black-clad soldier that pulled him onto the bank. He didn't see the eyes that watched for his breathing. He didn't notice the man turn and make his way slowly into the trees. No, he stayed blissfully unconscious while his brother saved him, and stayed on the bank until he was found by Zhanna later.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Dean awoke in the hospital. He heard music playing that he barely identified at _Troubleman,_ and took in his hospital gown and IVs calmly. Hospitals were usual for him, well, had been at one point. Turning his head, he could see Rob sitting at his right reading a book, the cut on his face healing nicely.

'On your left,' Dean said quietly as he closed his eyes. Rob turned to look at him, and a smirk slowly crawled onto his face and he nodded his head.

They would find out later that Fury had gone back into hiding, since no-one who wasn't supposed to know knew he was alive; he would be taking advantage of his death to do some spying. They would learn that Cassie joined the CIA and that Jody Mills now worked for Stark Industries, heaven help her. Zhanna would inform them that the government decided to blame them for all the bad things that happened, and accused them of dismantling their intelligence apparatus instead of thanking them for exposing HYDRA. She also would tell them that some government members wanted her in prison for her past, forgetting all she has done in the present. She would also tell them that Fury wanted to meet with them before he left.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They met at the cemetery in front of Fury's grave once they were healed. They were in civilian clothes, and Dean was in his favourite brown leather jacket and a white tee. Fury walked up, looking every inch the dangerous punk in his dark sweatshirt and large, black sunglasses. Dean privately thought that Zhanna should give him some alternate identity tips.

'So,' began Fury, 'we've been data mining HYDRA's files. Seems a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship.' He looked at Dean. 'I'm headed to Europe tonight. I wanted to ask if you'd come.'

Dean didn't look his way; something akin to the thousand-yard stare of a soldier crossed his face. 'There's something I have to do first,' he said, leaving no room for argument.

'How about you, Wilson? We could use a man with your abilities,' Fury asked.

Rob regarded Dean and knew he couldn't leave him right now. 'I'm more of a soldier than a spy,' he replied.

'All right then,' said Fury. He sounded unsurprised. He shook both their hands. 'If anyone asks for me, tell them they can find me right here,' he said as he nodded towards his headstone. He got a nod from both men before he left.

'You should be honoured; that's about as close as he gets to saying thank you,' came Zhanna's voice as she walked up to them.

Dean glanced at Fury's retreating back. 'He's worse with words than I am,' he quipped. Then serious again: 'You're not going with him?'

'No,' Zhanna answered.

'But not staying here.'

'Nah. I blew all my covers; I have to figure out a new one,' she replied. She smiled warmly at Dean. 'I called in a few favours from Kiev.' She handed him a file, a Russian word stamped on the front. 'Will you do me a favour? Call that nurse?' she asked.

'She's not a nurse,' Dean protested with a grin.

'She's still nice,' Zhanna rejoined. Dean smirked at her attitude, and Zhanna placed a kiss on his cheek before turning and walking away. 'Be careful, Dean,' she warned, turning around, 'that might be a dangerous thread.' Turning around again, she left.

Dean opened the file. Inside was a picture of his brother in a metal tank; he looked unconscious. There were also pages of notes written in Russian.

'You're going after him,' stated Rob.

'You don't have to come with me.' Dean would hold no grudge if he didn't; he knew this would be asking for trouble from more than one group.

'I know,' answered Rob. 'When do we start?'

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the opposite side of town at the museum, a man in a dark field jacket and hat walked through the Captain America exhibit. He stopped in front of the wall dedicated to Sam Winchester. The man had soft brown hair and haunted hazel eyes. For the first time in seventy years, Sam Winchester read something true about himself.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 _To Be Continued..._

Sorry for the long wait; hopefully next time will be better. Next up is Dean finding Sam and a bunch of hurt/comfort, so feel free to share ideas.


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